A Series of Events
by babygray
Summary: In January, the impossible occurred. It took Severus till April to realize just what that was, and to believe. Snarry Mpreg. Takes place during Half-Blood Prince. Spoilers for whole series. Rating for sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

_A quick note or two_: This was written for a contest. It lost. I sad. (But not really.) This is also unbeta'ed. Snarry. Canon-based. 16-year-old Harry. And MPreg, which was the point of the contest. It is unfortunate that I dislike MPreg as a rule, and, at the time, Snape Mpreg especially so, which may be the reason behind my defeat. C&C always welcomed.

_Disclaimer_: Severus Snape, Harry Potter, and all things Harry Potter-related are the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and associated parties. This is a fan derivative that is only for fun's sake and is not intended to infringe on those rights. (... Not mine, don't sue? It's been a while, you see...)

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_**A Series of Events**  
by Ileana (babygray)  
_

_Chapter One_

It was around the month of April that Severus began to suspect the impossible.

It certainly wasn't in January, although that month did have a horrifying charm all its own. It was a few days after the New Year, and a few before the anniversary of his own ill-received birth, that the simply inconceivable and reprehensible occurred.

Harry Potter had buggered him.

The week before had been hectic for the Potions Master and current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The situation with young Mr. Malfoy was still not within his control and both the Headmaster and the Dark Lord loomed over his every waking thought. Even now, as the Headmaster's health was fading away by the moment, Severus knew that things were slowly, but surely, reaching their inevitable conclusion, with or without his participation.

In spite of himself, he almost wished, on occasion, that it would all just end already. Certainly, the wait was not helping him in his attempts to prevent it.

Potter, who, true to form, was breaking rules and throwing useless accusations throughout the castle, was not helping the situation, but Severus never expected much from the boy. He didn't have to deal with the boy nearly as much as he had the year prior, but Black's death had turned the wretched urchin into even more of an irritant, if that was even possible.

So, right after the holidays, when he caught Potter after curfew in a third-floor corridor near Ravenclaw Tower, Severus was not surprised in the least by the boy's almost-volcanic reaction. When the boy began to make what he surely thought were sly, clever insinuations, however, Severus's control, stretched thin as it was, loosened just enough to grab the boy by the upper arm and pushed him through the nearest unlocked door.

The fact that the door led to a small, windowless room no bigger than a cupboard was of no great consequence at the time.

"If you had any sense," Severus said as he pushed Potter none-too-gently against the now-closed door with one hand, "you would keep your mouth shut about things you know nothing about." With his free hand, he cast an eye-squinting _Lumos_ to light the darkness. In the wandlight, he stared at the boy's face. Potter's expression only grew more flushed as Severus continued, "However, you are a Potter." He loomed over the boy in the small space. "You are not necessarily bred for common sense."

In the wandlight, Severus could see the boy's eyes darken with the typical overabundance of emotion. He could make out every speckle, every minute variation in the green of the boy's irises. It was getting harder every year not to notice Lily's marks on the boy, not the least of which were his eyes. Harder, yes, but as the inevitable approaches, it also made it easier to remember all he had to atone for.

"I know exactly what's going on," Potter snapped back at him, shoving his chin defiantly at his professor. For a moment, Severus had hoped the boy would have been derailed by the comment on his genealogy.

"Do you now?" Severus said, his own position unwavering even as his grip tightened on Potter's arm. "I'm surprised you are capable of knowing anything at all. And, of course, you went to bother the Headmaster with whatever nonsense you think you know."

"I don't think I know," Potter said with a snarl. "I _know_ I know."

"And what did the headmaster tell you when you told him whatever it is that you _think_ you know," Severus pressed, the gap between his body and the boy's thinner than propriety would have allowed. The boy's ragged, uncontrollable breaths were hot against his cheek. He yanked the boy's arm upwards to bring them more eye-to-eye. "Keep out of affairs that do not concern you."

It was then that Severus sensed it, the figurative snake in the grass. How or when it had developed into the blood-gorged embarrassment it was at that moment did not matter. Severus's sneer became much more pronounced than should have been allowed by nature as Potter's face darkened from something other than self-righteous fury.

Severus wouldn't be the man he was if he had allowed this weakness to go unaddressed.

"My, and here I thought we hated each other, Mr. Potter," Severus said as he made no move towards or away from the faint bulb of heat touching his leg.

"Shut up," Potter said through clenched teeth as he tried to pull himself out of Severus's grip while attempting to not press any more of himself against his professor. He was not succeeding by either count. "Get off of me!"

Severus let go of the boy's arm without warning, causing the boy to stumble against the wall. "Ask and you shall receive," he said with dark humor.

The words barely left Severus when Potter attacked.

Whether it was pre-meditated or a mark of malicious clumsiness, it was unimportant. What was important was how Potter, in an attempt to regain balance, grabbed a fistful of Severus's robes and pulled his professor against him.

It was still there, that hot expression, now pressed completely against Severus, but that was not foremost on the list of items that needed to be addressed. The hot hand gripping Severus's forearm wasn't either. Surprisingly enough, Severus's own heightening arousal was not even registering properly at the moment.

The gasping, sudden, demanding kisses the boy was giving him were taking all of his attention.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Two_

It was around the month of April that Severus began to wonder if the impossible could even be called such.

It was still January 6th, however, and Severus was still trying to reconcile what he knew about Harry Potter and what had just happened. He could not even comprehend the sort of mental synapses that could have sparked in the boy's brain to lead to what they had done.

He certainly had no choice in the matter. True, he had allowed it to happen. He took it like a man and enjoyed it as greatly as any man could have under the circumstances, on his knees in the cold, tight confines of that room.

And when it was all over, when he finally allowed his body to collapse into a heap of afterglow and he could feel a trickle of hot wetness dribble down his leg, he was unable to find a suitable reason to help excuse his behavior. Not while Potter was coming down from his own high and beginning to hyperventilate behind him. Not when he had been witness to the way the boy's body became rigid just before ejaculation. Not with his smalls willingly torn off his body, and Potter's in a similar, deplorable state.

Potter seemed to be coming to his senses faster than Severus would had preferred and began to stammer in panic. Severus groaned as he rolled onto his side, turning his back to the foolish boy.

"Snape!" Potter said in a panicky gasp at the sound of the groan. "What did I… You made me do this. You! I didn't mean to…"

Completely certain that Potter was not saying anything worth listening to at the moment, Severus tucked his body in a more fetal-like position. Now that the last bit of afterglow has left him, he became more and more aware of the burning pain in his backside and the chill of the floor.

He rose up on his arms and pushed himself into a semi-sitting position, carefully avoiding putting any of his weight directly onto his posterior. Potter was still panicking in his corner.

"Potter," he said, trying and failing to get the boy's attention. "Potter!" he said again, this time succeeding. The boy stopped his incessant babble. Severus suddenly felt too tired to deal with any of this. "Return to your Common Room."

"But--"

"Go," Severus said as he leaned against the wall, the pain in his bottom numbed somewhat by the cold floor. "I'll deal with this all later," he added in a low mutter as he heard Potter shuffle about, picking up the scraps of his clothes and his dignity.

Severus's fingers found his wand, properly tucked away in its pocket in defiance of the manic-filled congress they had just participated in.

Potter was nearly at the door.

"Potter," Severus called again. He heard more than saw the boy turn towards him. He could almost imagine the look on the boy's face. "Come here."

It took a moment for the boy to move towards him. He placed a hand on Severus's shoulder with unexpected gentleness and expected impropriety. Severus reached out and placed his wand-free hand on Potter's chin and moved his head so that he could be sure exactly where Potter's face was.

"Sir?" Potter said with hesitation.

"_Obliviate_."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Three_

It was around the month of April that Severus had begun to panic.

January, on the other hand, was almost business as usual, and the situation was the same as it had been before the start of the year. One small, insignificant spell, and what had happen on the Epiphany was nothing more than a strange, unremarkable dream with no meaning and, ultimately, no resolution.

Potter, of course, did not remember what had occurred that night. Severus had sent him back to Gryffindor Tower the way he had found him, minus a few dozen House points for rule-breaking. He didn't remember and if Severus could manage to forget the event as well, that would be the end of it.

He did not regret the decision of casting the Memory Charm on the boy. What had happened between them was a mistake that Severus still could not reason away. It was the boy's fault, of course. He was the one to instigate it, though now that his memory had been altered, Severus had no way of knowing why.

Unless it happened again.

A small part of him wasn't sure if he really didn't want it to happen again.

A stab of pain in his abdomen made him lose his composure and grimace briefly. He immediately regain his detached cool, though his teeth clenched against the unceasing cramp. Glancing about, he did not see anyone in the Great Hall that could have noticed his momentary lapse. The children were too busy gorging themselves to take notice of their professors.

Someone had noticed, however, he realized when he spotted Potter glaring at him from inside his circle of sycophants and sidekicks. But of course. The boy was always watching.

The young Mr. Malfoy, who always had that useful ability to sense every odd movement that his 'rivals' made, seemed to have noticed as well, if Severus was to go by the calculating glint in the boy's eyes.

Headmaster Dumbledore, always that paragon of watchfulness, much to Severus' misfortune, had deigned to join the school that evening after a series of absences. A quick peak at the old man from the corner of his eye confirmed that the old man had noticed as well.

The meal barely ended when Severus was invited to the Headmaster's office for a quick word.

The Headmaster's office, as it have been for as long as Severus remembered, was a dream world of light and magic, with the Headmaster himself as both curator and main attraction. Silver instruments spun and chimed amidst the tapestries of the school's long, illustrious history. Severus paid no mind to the child-like toys or the phoenix familiar and instead focused all his attention on the Headmaster himself. After the usual pleasantries, cut short as they were due to the Headmaster's condition, Severus took his usual seat in front of the Headmaster's desk.

"Are you feeling alright, Severus?" Dumbledore finally began to ask, a look of worry on the man's bearded face. "Has the Mark been flaring tonight?"

"No, Headmaster," Severus said succinctly. "If it had, I would have informed you."

"Of course, of course," Dumbledore said, his voice soundly almost disappointed that he was wrong. He made a move towards the small dish of sweets he always kept on his desk and retrieved a small piece. "Then that flinch I saw was not related to anything of great importance?"

"Of course not," Severus said. "It was nothing more than a slight muscle cramp."

The old man seemed satisfied with this explanation and nodded his head once. The sparkles embroidered into his hat bobbed up and down for a moment, completely caught unaware by the sudden motion. The bird that had been fluttering around the brim was tossed a bit off-course. "Well, I certainly do hope so," the Headmaster said as he sucked lightly on the sweet. The bird on his hat fluttered out of Severus's sight. "You will see Madam Pomfrey if your pain persists, of course?"

"Of course, Headmaster," Severus said, knowing that he would not go, even if the abdominal pains grew worse.

He was certain they would subside in time.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Four_

It was around the month of April that Severus began to suspect some things were beyond his control.

By the beginning of February, however, life was only growing more and more frustrating. It seemed that the demands being made of him from all sides were not enough. He has been ill every single day without exception since mid-January.

He wasn't sure exactly what had triggered it. One moment, he was discussing the massive flaws of a third year Hufflepuff's attempt at improvisation. The next, he was desperately trying to keep his lunch from reappearing, particularly all over the afore-mentioned third year Hufflepuff. He hiccupped and swallowed before composing himself and continuing with his commentary.

"Miss Keeler," he said in his most imperious voice as he looked down on the mousy girl even as the taste of acid filled the back of his throat. "I do believe that if you actually tried to defend yourself against a Dark creature in the wild, not only will you die, but you will die so spectacularly that your very name, Miss Keeler, will enter the English language as synonymous with complete and utter incompetence."

Not that he believed she could ever beat the incompetence of one Gilderoy Lockhart, but she was welcomed to try. Just not during his class. He should make sure that she was especially clear on that one point.

The girl began to sniffle pathetically at the words, despite the fact that he was merely _discussing_ the situation with her. His stare hardened. Were those tears forming in her eyes?

At that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class.

Well, he'd just have to wait another day to finish this discussion. "Leave, Miss Keeler, before you disappoint me further," he said to the girl, noting with irritation that, yes, the girl's eyes were indeed brimming with tears. Her classmates, in hopes of not attracting any unwanted attention, gathered their things and rushed out to their next class and out of his clutches. Their hurried motions did nothing to ease the churning in his stomach. "I hope that you will learn to follow directions in the future."

With those words, he turned and strode towards the preparation room. He could hear Miss Keeler's friends reassuring her that he was nothing more than a mean, greasy bat with little else in his life aside from terrorizing students. Such talk deserved more than a mere handful of points taken away, and on any other day, Severus was more than eager to collect. He was more concerned, however, with reaching the sink in the preparation room before it was too late than with detracting points from simple, unassuming Hufflepuff.

He made it just in time and retched the remains of what had been lunch out into the stone basin. It was an unpleasant affair that petered out with a handful of dry heaves before residing.

He stared at the acid-coated contents of his purged stomach. He recognized one white chunk of cheese here, one bit of green vegetable there. First the persistent muscle cramps in his abdomen, and now an unexpected bout of nausea. He was beginning to think, and not for the first time, that he was quite the lightning rod for misfortune.

He gargled with some water in an attempt to get the vile taste out of his mouth. The gargling made his stomach churn in a sickening fashion. He spat the water into the sink and leaned against the stone basin, his head low and his arms rigidly holding him up. He took a moment to gather his wits and his strength, exhausted from the nausea. Perhaps it was not just his meal that he had dispelled.

He took a deep breath and straightened his back. He banished the mess from the sink and prepared himself for the next class, hoping that would be the end of it.

It didn't end that day, however. It happened every day, and it wasn't long before he began to take evasive action. He started taking a nausea potion to ease the effects. He began eating milder and milder food at meals in hopes of not upsetting his stomach further. Before too long, he was eating nothing but toast and drinking nothing but potion and very weak tea, but none of his preventive measures were helping. On average, he was keeping down about a third of his meals, and just barely.

If anyone had noticed his problem, they hadn't mentioned it. Dumbledore hadn't appeared at meals since just after the holidays and hadn't seen how Severus has been spending his. Minerva, the sharp-eyed tabby that she was, had noticed something was off, but after questioning him on it, came to the conclusion that it was merely a result of the work he was doing for the Order. The rest of the occupants of the castle, however, were completely oblivious, or worse, unconcerned.

Severus gave the rest of the Great Hall a glance and found Potter staring at him again. He assessed the look and, once he found it was a completely normal glare from the boy, Severus returned his attention to the chicken broth he was hoping would stay down afterwards.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Five_

It was around the month of April that Severus began to grow more and more concerned.

At the moment, however, Severus was having a small dilemma.

The problem had nothing to do with the Headmaster, though the argument he had with the man recently was still a sore issue between them. In spite of outside threats and his rapidly deteriorating health, the Headmaster seemed determined to save the world, and he had no qualms in using Severus's soul as payment, and not just Severus'. If Severus thought about _that_ again, he was going to be sick.

Or, rather, sicker than he already was. It was already nearing mid-March and while the initial, near-constant nausea had subsided, whatever it was that had caused the imbalance had not left his system. The abdominal cramps, also, had not ceased. It was truly becoming worrisome, especially as he began to notice how weak he had become since January, not just physically, but magically as well. He refused to acknowledge the fatigue, but it was there, plaguing him.

These were not the problems at hand, however.

The problem at the moment was his waistline.

True, once the nausea had begun to subside, he was able to return to a more regular diet. He doubted, however, that this dietary change was enough to cause the sudden little belly that had begun to form. It was small, no more than a bump, but on his otherwise emaciated body, it stuck out almost obscenely over the top of the waistband of his pants.

He stared at it for a long time, taking in its shape from all angles with the aid of a mirror. He was attempting to understand how exactly it had come into existence, however difficult that was while the mirror chattered on uselessly.

Not for the first time in the last few months, he had thought of and then rejected the idea of seeing Madam Pomfrey concerning his condition. The situation seemed to be growing worse by the day, with something new happening to plague him. Severus, however, refused to ask for help. It was still somewhat manageable, and he believed that he was more than capable of dealing with it alone.

The Mark on his arm flared then and he hurriedly got dressed, assured, if for the moment, that the abnormal bump was hidden underneath the folds of his robes. Vowing to buy some sort of girdle by the following weekend, if only for peace of mind, he grabbed a small black satchel and raced out the door.

As he made his way out of the castle, he sent his Patronus to the Headmaster with a message, knowing that even the sight of the silver doe should be enough for the old man to know what Severus was up to that night.

Once out on the grounds, he hurried to the edge of the anti-Apparation wards, dodging in and out of shadows so as not to be spotted by anyone inside the castle nor by any of the Aurors patrolling the grounds. Once he was out of the wards and comfortably hidden, he draped a hooded robe over himself and donned his mask. A part of him was annoyed that he had to deal with all of this on a school night. The rest was mentally preparing for what might or might not occur.

He touched his wand to his Mark and Apparated to the Dark Lord's side, but the journey, however short it was, left him disoriented enough to stumble when he arrived.

Someone had seen and laughed at his expense. It was a high, mad sound that he recognized easily.

"Ah, Severus," Bellatrix Lestrange called out, her voice still warbling with malicious laughter. "We've heard that you've been ill. I do hope you're feeling better."

He wondered on how she knew it was he, but as the dizziness eased, he realized that there was no one else in the room aside from Bellatrix and the Dark Lord.

He bowed low towards the Dark Lord. A sense of unease not quite related to his current list of physical ailments began to fill him. "My Lord," he said with proper reverence and fear, genuinely unsure as to what was in store for him.

"Bellatrix, leave us," the Dark Lord said, his voice a hiss in the dark. There was a pause in Bellatrix's laugh that was long and cool. A moment later, Severus heard Bellatrix's pouty retreat across the room. He could smell her faint perfume as she skirted around his bowing form. The door behind him opened with a hushed word and closed with another.

Severus's eyes stayed on the floor the entire time. It was a parquet floor, he noted, the wood of which shone almost red in the firelight from the hearth to his left.

He began to count the seconds he stood there, bowing at the waist and exposing, as it were, his neck to the Dark Lord. He heard the Dark Lord rise from his chair and walk towards him.

"Rise, Severus, and remove your mask," the Dark Lord finally commanded. Severus did so, his movements controlled and precise. "I would hate to aggravate your illness further." There was a smile on the slit that masqueraded as the Dark Lord's mouth as he said this.

"I assure you, my Lord, that I am not as ill as reports make me out to be," Severus said coolly, his eyes slowly rising to meet the Dark Lord's.

"I've also been told that you've been attempting to assist Draco Malfoy in his task," the Dark Lord said with a voice that almost made the matter seem insignificant. His red, slitted eyes stared directly into Severus's black ones. Severus, familiar as he was with how the Dark Lord used Legilimency, adjusted to the assault accordingly.

"I merely wish to help him succeed, my Lord," Severus said frankly.

"So it is not for glory? Or for honor?" the Dark Lord asked even as a small bead of sweat began to form on Severus's brow, just along the hairline. The effort it took to keep the Dark Lord suitably uninformed on certain facts was costing him more than it would have were he at full health.

"What greater glory is there than to serve you, my Lord," Severus answered, his voice full of quiet conviction. "And what greater honor?" Bellatrix had her zealous devotion, and Lucius his arrogant obsequiousness, at least before his fall the summer before. Severus, however, was always quietly passionate in his loyalty to his Lord, and was always confident in the cause and in their leader.

At least, this was how he had always portrayed himself, and how he would continue to do so.

The corner of the slit that was the Dark Lord's mouth turned upwards in an amused way. "Oh, you always were a sly one, Severus," he said, finally breaking eye contact. "You need not lie to me. I've always known how ambitious you are." Severus bit in the sigh of relief as the Dark Lord moved silently towards the bay windows to Severus's right.

"And while your ambition and your loyalty has always been useful, I do not wish for you to aid him, Severus," the Dark Lord said, his voice losing the amused tone. "These are his tasks, and his alone."

'These'? Severus's mind scrambled to make sense of the word. He wasn't aware that the boy was given something else to do. What other impossible task had the Dark Lord ask the young Mr. Malfoy to undertake?

"When he succeeds, for I am confident he will, then your support shall be expected," the Dark Lord said. "As for now, you have your own tasks to complete." He turned his pale, flat-nosed face back towards Severus. "Or am I wrong, Severus?"

"You are not, my Lord," Severus said promptly. After giving his own report on the Headmaster's condition and the movement of the Order, he was free to return to Hogwarts, unharmed and more than a bit exhausted from the experience.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Six_

It was around the month of April that Severus began to believe in the impossible.

The month had started as the last one ended. The girdle he had ordered from a discreet clothier was doing a fine job in making the unbecoming, completely abnormal bump completely unnoticeable, even as the abnormality seemed to grow further. The cramps also seemed to be growing more and more painful, and while the nausea was almost gone, only making an appearance once every other day, the fatigue hadn't.

If only all these physical problems would disappear, so that he could focus on everything else that was happening all around him, or rather _to_ him.

He rested for a moment against the edge of his desk as he set the fifth year Gryffindors into pairs to practice defensive magic. The morning had not started well. His breakfast was a mere piece of toast and several cups of spicy, chocolate-laced coffee. He could not explain why he had wanted to drink the odd concoction in the first place, but he was regretting the decision now. The bit of nausea it had induced was making him a bit lightheaded and queasy.

Taking a deep breath that strained a bit at the girdle and did nothing for the nausea, he reluctantly got back to his feet. He began his rounds amongst the students once more, keeping a close eye for anything completely dangerous and a hand on his wand. The students were doing well, for Gryffindors: well enough, but with no finesse and too much brashness.

As he helped one of the thickheaded children understand just how he was supposed to cast the appropriate spell, a sudden sense of danger filled him. He felt more than saw the way the hex cast by Miss Weasley bounced off the elder Mr. Creevey's shield in an unexpected arch. He turned towards it, his wand out and ready, but for the first time in a long time, he was too slow. It hit him square in the abdomen just as he cast a shield against it. With a cry of true, unexpected pain, Severus was down.

The Gryffindors stopped their practice in surprise. One of the girls cried out in panic. Another of the children was shouting at someone to go and find a teacher, anyone. Their voices washed over him as he curled into himself, clutching his abdomen and gritting his teeth against the pain.

There were no words that could properly explain how much Miss Weasley's hex had hurt him. The best way was through simile: it was like a thousand knives, red-hot and terrifyingly sharp, stabbing into every nerve in his center. It was like an unexpected vice, twisting and shredding his bowels without mercy. There were hands on his shoulders, trying to roll him onto his back, but he could not uncurl from the intense pain. There was a woman calling his name, but he couldn't respond without groaning in agony.

He refused to groan in agony, yet his voice whimpered in spite of his pride. He wasn't blacking out from the pain. Oh, why wasn't he blacking out?

He rode the pain and barely marked the fact that he was being moved to the Hospital Wing.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Seven_

Severus did not understand.

"I," he said, hoping repetition would help make sense of Madam Pomfrey's words, "am pregnant?"

"You _were_ pregnant," Madam Pomfrey corrected him. "Miss Weasley's hex combined with that girdle you were wearing terminated it." She fussed over him for a moment, adjusting the blankets that had been draped over his form. "It will probably take until tomorrow for your body to expel it all out, but it shouldn't be too painful."

Severus blinked wearily at the information. His mind was too drugged to connect all the facts quickly enough. Pregnant. "How…?" he began to say, but as the word left his lips, he recalled how. Or, rather, he recalled the most likely event that had caused such an unnatural condition. He should have known that night would lead to something worse. It involved a Potter; of course it would lead to something worse for him.

"Well, it's not like this is a natural condition. There has only been a few dozen recorded incidents concerning male pregnancy," Madam Pomfrey said as she examined a vial of analgesic on the bedside table. It was pale green in the early afternoon light. "And they were all so unique that I wouldn't be surprised that your pregnancy was a one-of-a-kind affair as well." She shook the potion vial before settling it back down on the table. She looked up and noticed Severus's incredulous expression. "I was obsessed with unusual conditions when I was younger," she explained with a faint, nostalgic smile. Her eyes misted over in a way Severus had never seen before, but the matron soon found her composure and allowed a more professional look to return to her face. "Do you have an idea as to how _your_ pregnancy became possible?"

Aside from his theory on Potter's inherited ability to ruin his life at every turn… no, he did not. He said as much to Madam Pomfrey, only without mentioning his personal theory. He relaxed into the bedsprings, noting how distractingly mellow he felt from the potions Madam Pomfrey had given him when he was first brought to the Hospital Wing. Any moment now, the Headmaster would appear, demanding answers in his own gentle, old man way and he wouldn't let Severus postpone that conversation for too long.

First, Severus needed to understand how it had happened on his own. He still wasn't sure as to how it could have occurred in the first place.

He sighed, convinced that he was born to suffer.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey left his bedside, the Headmaster walked in through the curtains that were sheltering Severus from the curious and the malicious. His glittering, colorful robes brightened the plain, white space in such a jarring way that Severus was more than thankful that his blood was saturated with pain-relievers. There was the usual look of concern on the Headmaster's face as he took the seat by the bed. Severus weakly sat up and rested his back against the headboard.

"I heard that you had some trouble during class," Dumbledore said as he offered a sweet. Severus declined. "Though, I should be thankful. If it wasn't for Miss Weasley's misdirected hex, things would have only been that much more difficult for us." The Headmaster pulled out his wand from the folds of his sleeves and, with a light tap and a whisk, created a bubble of privacy that encompassed the curtained-off space.

Severus only nodded at the Headmaster's words, his own thoughts disconnected and unable to focus. He should be setting up a proper defense against a possible assault from Dumbledore. At the same time, however, he was trying to analyze that night in hopes of finding the one unusual item out of several unusual items that could have led to this pregnancy.

"Can you explain to me how this happened, Severus?" the Headmaster said, peering at him from over the rims of his half-moon glasses, the blue eyes piercing but no attack followed. Severus did not soften his defenses, weak as they were.

"I had sex, Headmaster," Severus said bluntly. "I do not wish to think of any other way this could have happened."

"Where did this happen, Severus?" the Headmaster asked. "And with whom?"

"I…" For a moment, Severus was speechless, unwilling to tell anyone, even Dumbledore, what had happened, but he composed himself accordingly. "It was at Hogwarts, Headmaster," he admitted, knowing as he said it that he had signaled for the end of both his career and the man's trust.

The Headmaster, on the other hand, did not seem as perturbed by the location or the implications as Severus was certain he should have been. "Where in Hogwarts, Severus?" the Headmaster said, his voice gentle, though there was a strain of impatience. Severus stared at him as a cold worry filled his insides.

"Does it actually matter?" Severus said, the potion-induced calm he had been in fading.

The Headmaster adjusted and settled further into his chair. "There is a room, Severus," he began, "on the third floor near Ravenclaw Tower that is kept locked due to the kind of magic inside it. The sort of magic that ensures procreation." Severus stared at the Headmaster, his jaw loosening and dropping as the Headmaster continued. "According to Laverne de Montmorency, I'm certain you are more than familiar with that name, the magic was latent in the room from the start, something that other researchers seem to agree upon." A look of ill-mingled disgust and confusion twisted Severus's face, especially at the mention of de Montmorency, but he did not comment.

"It isolates and brings to the forefront certain emotions," Dumbledore continued. "My personal theory is that, because of the size of the room, so many of Hogwarts' own had used the room for romantic trysts that it focused the magic to interact with one specific emotion, helping it grow in both power and potency." The old man shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. "Of course, this magic, combined with the potential of young witches and wizards, is dangerous. It was finally locked and disillusioned when a seventh year boy became with child in the 1800's, bringing attention to what the room can do. Unfortunately, I believe that this is what had happened to you."

Severus was speechless. The Headmaster pulled out a handful of something from an inner pocket of his robes. "After I was informed of your condition from Poppy, I went to that room and found not only was the door visible and unlocked, but this." He opened his fist, showing to Severus a few stray black buttons and a torn strip of black fabric. "I believe you are familiar with these?" the Headmaster said.

"Yes, Headmaster," Severus said, recognized the missing pieces from the pair of trousers he had been wearing that night. He had not been in the mood then to make sure he had gathered everything. He should have realized that just altering the mind of the other participant would not make the incident disappear. He had returned to the room, to check and make certain it was the same as he had found it, but he could not find the door.

To his current regret, he did not attempt to use all his skills to find the room once more. At the time, however, he was almost relieved when the room had become hidden to him. It made it all the more simple to forget all that had occurred that night, making it just a feverish dream, destined to be forgotten.

He stared at the damning evidence of his own folly as the Headmaster placed them by Severus's thigh. "Now, Severus," the Headmaster said as he moved his hand away from the buttons and scrap of fabric. "While I am now quite assured as to the place, and perhaps the circumstances, I still need to know more before I have a full understanding." The Headmaster's eyes were soft and pleading. "Please, Severus. Tell me what happened."

Severus took one of the small, black buttons in his hand. They were plain, cloth-covered wooden buttons, the sort that were considered rather old-fashioned to Muggles. They were no larger than the nail of his smallest finger, but they had done their job of keeping the front of his trousers closed quite well, right up to the night that Potter had gotten his hands on them.

Potter…

Severus rolled the small button in his hands. "What's to tell?" he said, feigning disinterest. "If it's as you say, that room was the cause of it. What more can I add to that?"

"Severus," the Headmaster said in a low voice, the very word filled with unspoken reprimands. Severus looked up from the button in his hands. There was the hint of their last argument in the old man's eyes. He looked back down at the small, homeless button in his hands. He did not want to discuss _that_ disagreement as well.

"At least, tell me the name of the other father," the Headmaster said. He sounded very much like a hurt old man. Severus did not want to see the expression that accompanied those words.

"I don't recall," Severus said. "And neither does he," he added in a softer voice still.

"Severus," the Headmaster said, a touch of anger entering his voice.

"Please, Albus," Severus said, his voice nearly breaking. He hoped that the Headmaster was astute enough to understand that Severus was not just asking for a pause in the old man's questions. He clenched tightly around the button in his hand.

The Headmaster sighed from his seat by the bed. "I understand. This… situation is difficult enough as it is and you have much to think about without an old man like myself unintentionally making it worse." He groaned slightly as he rose to his feet. "Understand, Severus, that I still wish to learn more about this event, but if you do not wish to speak of it, I will press no further." Severus could almost see in his mind's eye the sort of smile the Headmaster was giving him, that grandfatherly smile he almost always used to pacify. "I shall stop by and visit with you again in the evening after dinner. That is, if you will allow me."

"Of course, Headmaster," Severus said as the Headmaster patted Severus's shoulder once, twice. Severus did not want to look up from behind his veil of black hair. The old man waved his pale wand, dispensing with the privacy bubble.

"I hope you take the time and rest, Severus. I'm certain your students would be greatly disappointed if you're not back to your cheerful self soon." Severus outright scowled at the Headmaster, who had the gall to chuckle. "Poppy, you'll take good care of Severus for us, won't you?" he called out to the mediwitch.

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore," Madam Pomfrey said as she escorted the Headmaster out of the Wing. Their voices trailed out as they moved away from the cloistered bedside. Severus paid them no heed.

He rolled the button between his fingers. He wondered if there was a chance he would be able to keep the most important part of the tale to himself.


	8. Chapter 8

_A Quick Note or Two_: For here on out, I am on unsure footing. I only have the vaguest sense as to where the story will go. The only thing that does know is whatever it was that had driven me to write so much so far, and it doesn't seem to want to tell me. It's also not helping me make sense of what I do know, the bastard.

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Eight_

Miss Weasley, either at the behest of her Head of House or of her own volition, though Severus was inclined to believe the former, appeared in the Hospital Wing just after her last class of the day. Trailing behind her were the elder Mr. Creevey and, unexpectedly, Mr. Thomas, who looked as if he had lost his way and arrived there by mere chance.

He allowed the visitors to visit his bedside after much consideration, and only after Madam Pomfrey assured him that the cause of his hospitalization was not immediately visible. He would have preferred seeing those three turn right around and go back to their Tower, leaving him be for once in their lives. Nevertheless, he was curious. He watched coolly as Madam Pomfrey guided them to his bedside while admonishing them before they've had the chance to do anything wrong.

Sometimes, he was quite fond of Madam Pomfrey.

"We came to apologize for what happened, Professor," Miss Weasley said with surprisingly proper manners. It was quite unfortunate that some of her siblings did not possess the same decorum. "We, um…" she continued, lowering Severus's opinion of her just as quickly as it had risen. She might have the manners, but she had also inherited her brother Ronald's common way with words. "We wanted to see if you were alright."

"I assure you, Miss Weasley, that it would take a lot more than a little hex from you to take me down," he said smoothly.

"Really, sir?" Mr. Creevey said, his mouth falling into that most unflattering agape expression common to, forgive the redundancy, Gryffindors and fools. "Because Ginny's hex—ow," he whimpered in protest as Miss Weasley wisely jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

Severus watched the boy rub his bruised side. His eyebrow quirked up as the boy fidgeted underneath his gaze. "Yes," he finally said in response. "Quite." He smoothed the blankets covering his 'condition' self-consciously, his eyes still on the three Gryffindors. He stiffened his back against the headboard a bit further and composed himself as a tsar would on his throne. "Well," he said," now that you have said your peace, you are free to go. And Mr. Thomas," he added just as the older boy turned to leave, "do remind your classmates that the fact that I am in hospital does not excuse them from turning in the assignment due tomorrow."

"Yes, Professor," Mr. Thomas said with a scowl before stepping out and through the white curtains. Gryffindors and their complete lack of respect…

"I hope you feel better, sir," Mr. Creevey said before following Mr. Thomas out. Severus doubted the boy meant the sentiment.

"Miss Weasley," he said just as she, too, turned to join her housemates out of the Hospital Wing. She turned back and looked at him with more than a spark of suspicion. "Make sure to tell Professor McGonagall you've fulfilled your duty. I would loath to have you visit me a second time when once is more than adequate.

"Professor McGonagall didn't send me to see you, Professor," she said. His eyebrows rose discreetly at the words. He wasn't sure if he was pleased by the surprise or disappointed that he was wrong. After a brief thought, he decided that her actions ran true with the typical qualities of her House and left it at that.

"I see," he said. "Also," he started to say, but the words died on his lips, unsure as to what else he could say to the girl. A blessing, a curse, the situation was too fresh, too new for him to understand which the girl deserved more. A small, foolish part of him wished to send her on an errand, to bring forth the one person that he, for the most part, did not want to see.

The girl was still at the opening, waiting. "Give my regards to your parents," Severus continued in what he hoped wasn't an utterly unconvincing manner.

She looked at him for a long moment, trying, no doubt, to comprehend the reason behind the request. He could only guess at the sort of nefarious thoughts she was attributing to him. The moment passed, however, and she nodded once before turning to go once more.

He did not stop her a second time.


	9. An Interlude

_A little late, but..._: This story is rough and un-beta'ed. Expect typos, random plot holes, and occasional oddness. (Should have said that before the first part, huh...)

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_An Interlude_

By dinner, the whole school knew of what happened during Ginny's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Most of the school seemed to be in high spirits, Gryffindor especially so. The mere thought of their most-hated professor slain, or at the very least incapacitated, by a simple hex filled them with glee. Already, there were several glory-seeking imitators planning their own 'accidental' attack on Professor Snape, bolstered by the idea that he was only human. The Slytherins, however, were not sharing in the celebratory mood. On the contrary, the lot was glaring daggers at every single person that was gloating over Professor's Snape's misfortune.

Some of those glares turned downright murderous as Ginny settled into her seat at the Gryffindor table, her fellow Housemates congratulating her on her good aim in loud, jubilant voices. It was without question that Ron was the loudest in his praise, declaring his sister the greatest Gryffindor of all. She didn't look particularly pleased with the adulation.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked once she got a good look at Ginny's face. There was a somewhat pinched look to it that didn't echo the excitement around her.

Ginny looked up at Hermione. She took in a breath before answering. "I went to the Hospital Wing just now see how Professor Snape was," Ginny said. Hermione's face turned a bit quizzical. "He looked horrible."

At Hermione's side, Ron was too shocked by the statement. His expression fell from vicariously victorious to simply flabbergasted. "Ginny," he said, the one word softening from euphoria to something more logical. "This is _Snape_ that we're talking about. He always looks terrible," he said, surprised that his sister didn't seem to understand what should have been a basic truth. "Right, Harry?" He nudged Harry with his elbow.

Unlike the rest of Gryffindor, however, Harry looked about as pleased with Snape's misfortune as the Slytherins did. His eyes were focused on the table and his jaw was jutting out in a foul manner. He was deep in thought and looked two words away from a spectacular explosion of paranoia and suspicion. He did not reply.

Ron, however, did not see the mood Harry was in. He was too distracted by Ginny's statement. "You're not feeling sorry for the greasy git, are you?" he said.

"I meant worse than usual," Ginny said, trying to explain. "Like that hex nearly killed him."

"What kind of hex did you use?" Hermione asked. "Everyone kept saying different things."

"Just a twisting hex," Ginny said. "You know the kind. It's only supposed to pinch the muscles a little, but the way he was screaming when he got hit with it…" Her voice trailed off with a shake of her head. "I was trying to take down Colin's shield, so maybe it was pretty strong, but…" Her voice died away.

"Well," Ron said after a lull, "good thing the old git got careless for once." A large grin broke on his face. "We don't have to turn in our essays tomorrow."

"Actually," Ginny said, "he told Dean that they're still due."

Ron looked at his sister with a stricken look on his face. He turned his eyes to Dean, who was sitting next to Ginny with a sour look on his face.

"It's true," Dean said with a glower.

"Well, you don't expect him to give us an extension just because he's been injured," Hermione said reasonably. "He'll probably be back on his feet and in class tomorrow."

Ron sighed. "I don't think I even finished mine. How about you, Harry?"

Harry, however, was too wrapped up in his thoughts to pay attention to the conversation. Unlike the others, he had noticed certain things, or, to be more specific, certain people. For one, he had noticed how Malfoy was doing underneath all the stress that he was under. The boy was looking paler and pointier by the day.

Snape, too, had been looking more and more ill since the New Year. Harry had noticed the way the man's face grew green during class and how little he had been eating during meals. He had caught the man wince in pain when he thought no one was watching, pressing a soothing hand on his stomach. The man also seemed to take more breathers during class than he did before Christmas. Harry was almost surprised that no one else had noticed as well.

Even if Harry hadn't been paying close attention and hadn't noticed the professor's declining health, he knew Snape. The professor must have been feeling less like himself than usual if he allowed himself to be hexed in his own classroom. Harry couldn't think of a single time the man had lowered his defenses enough to be caught off-guard by anything.

Harry only made noncommittal noises throughout the rest of dinner, his mind preoccupied with clandestine plans and thoughts of Snape. So focused was he on this that he did not notice Draco Malfoy leave the Great Hall before the rest of his House.


	10. Chapter 9

_Um..._: I'm not sure about this part...

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Nine_

Evening came slowly in the Hospital Wing. Students came and went, each either deflected or treated by Madam Pomfrey, who did a marvelous job of not allowing the unwanted interlopers to draw close to Severus's bedside. He desired no unnecessary visitors, and Madam Pomfrey understood, keeping the merely curious away.

Yet, as the lamps were lit by invisible hands, and the spring afternoon turned into spring night, Severus became restless. He yearned to return to his rooms, to be amongst his possessions, instead of being forced to entertain himself with some poor, homeless buttons and a bit of idle wand-waving.

By the dinner bell, he was ready to climb the walls in frustration.

"I am not hungry," he said evenly as Madam Pomfrey placed a tray before him. The kitchens had sent up a bowl of oxtail soup for him, with some brown bread and a pot of tea for company. The tantalizing, seductive scents of the meal did not appeal to him at all.

"Nonsense," the matron said as she fussed over him. "You're going to need your strength. This pregnancy has taken a lot out of you."

Severus frowned at her statement. "I am sure that you hold that word in great esteem," he said, "but would you mind not uttering it at every opportunity? Someone could hear you prattle about."

The matron paused for a moment. "You may be right," Madam Pomfrey said with a glint in her eyes. "But there is no one else here, and apparently, I know something that you don't know, Professor." She looked downright smug as she said that. "Not once, in all these years, has someone been capable of sneaking into the Wing undetected. It's practically impossible. But," she teased, "the impossible has happened before." She gave Severus a pointed, knowing look.

He scowled back.

Madam Pomfrey tilted her head to the side and her eyes softened with something Severus would not stand for on any day: pity. His mind began to generate and reassess his plans of escaping this cloistered space before dawn.

"Don't worry," she said with an unsolicited pat on the shin. "Your secret's safe with me." Her facial expression twitched unexpectedly then, as if a stray thought had inconveniently caught her attention. She straightened and began to hurry away from his bedside. "Now eat," she said. "I'll be back in a while."

Severus watched her go. He listened to the staccato taps of her shoes on the floor and the rustling of her skirts as she rushed off towards the entrance of the Wing. He could just make out her muttering before that, too, faded away.

As the sounds faded away, Severus let out a long hiss of a sigh. He looked down at the food set before him. He stared at it, taking in the color of the soup, the texture of the bread. The sight of it turned his stomach. He could not find it in him to take up the spoon that was so conveniently placed by the bowl.

Outside the white curtains, someone was speaking to Madam Pomfrey in a familiar, insolent matter. It could only have been a student, speaking in that low, urgent voice, but it was difficult for Severus to place a name or a face to the sound. Even as the voice drew closer, it sounded garbled and insignificant to him.

"Well, I am sorry, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey said in a clear, authorative tone, "but now is not the time to visit Professor Snape. And shouldn't you be in the Great Hall right now?"

"I finished dinner early," the young Mr. Malfoy said, the quality of his voice unchanged by recognition. "I need to speak with him, now."

"Whatever it is you wish to say to him will have to wait until the morning," she said, "Now, if there is nothing wrong with you, then you'll just have to go."

"Why can't I see him?" young Mr. Malfoy protested, his voice rising in volume.

"Professor Snape is resting, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey said, hard and unyeilding, "and I cannot have anyone disturbing- Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey cried out.

Severus heard the thudding sound of soft-soled feet running towards him. He could almost imagine how young Mr. Malfoy had feinted past the matron as he now made his way to Severus's bedside.

Severus instinctively schooled his features. He glanced down to make sure the sign of his affliction was hidden from sight. He was relieved to see that, however unwanted the tray of food was, it did a marvelous job of keeping the unsightly bump out of view.

He looked up and watched young Mr. Malfoy wrestle his way through the white curtains as quickly as he could, nearly getting himself tangled along the way. Just beyond Severus could hear Madam Pomfrey gaining fast.

Severus gave the boy a level stare. "Mr. Malfoy," he said in a voice that would not stand for any more foolishness.

Young Mr. Malfoy's expression was blank before a brittle facsimile of his father's arrogance took over. "Professor," he said.

"Are you sure you wish to speak to me, Mr. Malfoy?" Severus said, his voice as smooth as silk, even as a leaden feeling filled his veins at the mere sight of the boy. "Surely your… father would be disappointed by this careless display," he said softly, in warning, as Madam Pomfrey slipped through the curtains and gripped young Mr. Malfoy's shoulder tightly. Severus watched with no small satisfaction as the boy's face blanched at the unspoken words. A part of him crowed at the sight.

Madam Pomfrey began to pull the boy back through the curtains. "It's time for you to go, Mr. Malfoy," she said. The boy numbly followed her lead.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Severus called out just before the boy went through completely. Young Mr. Malfoy straightened slightly from underneath Madam Pomfrey's grip and chanced a glance at his professor. "I will speak to you tomorrow about your actions tonight," he said.

The young Mr. Malfoy's jaw tightened stubbornly. "Yes, Professor," he said quietly. He turned and stepped through the curtains completely. Madam Pomfrey harrumphed to herself as she followed young Mr. Malfoy out, intending to make sure he left in a prompt and uninterrupted manner.

Severus's eyelids slid almost shut and an unexpected tension left him as the sound of their footsteps died away. Young Mr. Malfoy's appearance reminded Severus that the situation might indeed worsen for him, once certain parties were informed. Oh yes, Severus had an idea as to how the events today could undermine his authority in the classroom. And yet, who knew what would befall him once others began to hear rumors of what had occurred. That he had been brought down by a mere schoolgirl, and a child of a blood traitor no less, was bound to bring him difficulties. He felt a chill rush up his arms at the possible repercussions.

He pushed the tray aside, knowing he was not going to eat any time soon. He pulled out his wand and held it close, a talisman against what new misfortune would come to him.


	11. Chapter 10

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Ten_

"So," the Headmaster said from the chair by Severus's bed, "it was a student."

"Yes, Headmaster," Severus said as he came to a slow, thoughtful stop by the window. "It was."

On the bed between them was a tea service the Headmaster had conjured up. The edges of the cups and the saucers were adorned in gold and celestial blue, while the teapot was a star with the face and the general shape of a particularly creepy toddler. Severus's cup was on the tray, untouched.

Severus turned slowly on his heel and took a few purposeful steps to the foot of the bed. The soft fabric slippers he wore scraped faintly against the cold stone floor.

The Headmaster poured himself another cup of tea from the chubby, disturbingly adorable star teapot, which giggled and gurgled as it was tipped over. He spooned out an obscene amount of sugar from an equally disturbing comet-shaped bowl and stirred the concoction with a gilt-edged spoon. "And," he said as he placed the spoon on his saucer, "you Obliviated him."

Severus stopped in his careful tracks, just at the edge of the Headmaster's privacy bubble, and turned his back towards the bed. He clasped his hands behind his back in a precise manner. "I did what I believed was right," he said crisply. "What had resulted from that night only validates my decision."

The Headmaster drank his sweetened tea quietly. The china cup made a soft click as it came to rest on the saucer. "And that is why you will not tell me his name?" he said, that old, familiar admonition in his voice.

Severus kept his head high, his shoulders straight. He smoothed and tugged at the Hospital-issued sleepwear, uncomfortable in the light cloth. "I do not think it would be wise to inform others when he still knows nothing," he said, his eyes on the folding curtains.

The Headmaster drank some more of his tea. "Have you considered," he said, his lips smacking lightly against each other, "speaking to the boy about all this?" Severus shot him a dark look before stoically making his way back towards the window. "Not immediately, of course," the Headmaster conceded, "but, perhaps, in a few years? After this dark time finally passes?"

An impotent rage flickered inside Severus's breast at the possibility the Headmaster had painted so simply. 'In a few years?' His life was already forfeit, tied down to the altar by the will of both the Headmaster and the Dark Lord. There was very little hope in his heart that he would live to see that promised dawn. And the boy… he, who was just as destined, just as doomed…

"Perhaps then, the two of you can come to some sort of… understanding?" the Headmaster said. "If both of you still feel the same way."

He let out a soft, controlled breath, blanketing his feelings with an aloofness the Headmaster must not be allowed to penetrate. He looked out the window and saw only the darkness of night. "I see no need to come to an _understanding_ with him," he said stiffly.

The Headmaster took one last sip of his sweet tea. "Later tonight, I will send down what information I have concerning the room at the heart of this matter," he said. "I hope you will go over it, if only to gain some meaning out of all this."

"Meaning?" Severus said, turning his head towards the Headmaster. "What sort of 'meaning' is there to find?"

The Headmaster placed his saucer and cup on the tray. "Only you can say what meaning it would yield for you, Severus," he said. The old man rose, shaking his sleeve over his withered hand as he did so. He raised his wand and with a flick, the tea service disappeared altogether. "Am I right to assume you're going back to your rooms tonight?" he said.

"Yes, Headmaster," Severus said, turning his eyes back to the window. In the darkness, he could barely make out the shape of the Forbidden Forest against the cloud-covered sky. There were no stars that night to guide his way.


	12. Chapter 11

_A little ramble_: You would think that after two months, I would have written more than two pages. This chapter and I, however, were constantly fighting. It was only after I played some ball with a two-by-four and its head did it shape up into something that doesn't completely stink.

_However_: This chapter still kind of stinks, actually...

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Eleven_

The fire in the lantern crackled shyly as Severus dressed himself with abstracted precision. His fingers knew their work well, guiding each button and fold into their proper places. His thoughts, however, were on other matters beyond buttons and layers. They had not changed since Madam Pomfrey's declaration on his physical state, for the more he thought of the repercussions of that one encounter in the dark, the more he fretted over his plans to contain the inevitable effects. As his plans fermented in his mind, a mantra began to form, five simple words that flowed though his thoughts at every unguarded moment for it was, if nothing else, his one true priority.

_The boy must never know._

He ran a hand over his robes one last time and extinguished the lantern on the bedside table. He left the sequestered bedside with care, mindful of the bed and the folding curtains in the near-darkness. The hard soles of his shoes tapped against the stone in a slow, self-assured fashion as he made his way to the matron's office. There, just leaving her office, was Madam Pomfrey, carrying with her a covered willow basket, dyed black, and her own lantern lit and held aloft.

He took the basket from her, raising an eyebrow at the definite weight of the thing. He wondered for a moment at what sort of message the matron was trying to convey to him before completely slipping the handle over his other arm and letting it rest in the crook of his elbow.

"Should I be wary of letting you take the child with you, Severus?" the matron said as she held the lantern out and away with one hand. There was a softness to her expression as the sole light in the entire Hospital Wing flickered strongly on her face.

"No more so than is dictated by your nature, I assure you," Severus said softly. He lifted the black cloth covering the basket and saw a lump wrapped in white cloth inside. He replaced the black cloth with some satisfaction. "If you will excuse me," he said with a slight bow towards the matron before heading toward the double doors in a sedate fashion. The basket hanging from his elbow swung in an equally dignified manner with each audible step. Madam Pomfrey's skirts rustled behind him.

He was more than halfway down that long center aisle when the torches lining the walls of the Wing, long since extinguished in deference to the late hour, suddenly flared up with fresh flame, bathing the Hospital Wing with light. Momentarily blinded, Severus reared back, instinctively drawing his wand while placing the basket as much behind him as possible.

He heard more than saw Madam Pomfrey, her wand drawn, rush pass him towards the double doors. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice a bright vessel of worry that was being quickly dimmed with anger. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he saw that the one of the double doors have been opened, but, aside from Madam Pomfrey, there was no one there.

A cold fear filled Severus. There were all sorts of fools at Hogwarts that would try to enter the Hospital Wing at this late hour, not the least of which for the sole act of creating mischief. There was only one, however, that could do so without being seen, and it was this one person Severus was most reluctant to see, and most fearful.

"Potter," he whispered to himself, his jaw tightening at the thought as his fear slowly turned into anger. He hurried in his steps towards the matron, casting a quick spell towards his feet and another at the basket as he did so.

Madam Pomfrey stepped out into the corridor glancing up and down the length of it for the culprit. The torches there were lit as well, but aside from a few startled portraits, there was nothing and no one to see. "I think whoever was just here ran," she said with a frown, her brow furrowing. She lowered her wand slightly and retreated back to the double doors, her skirts billowing slightly as she turned.

"How unfortunate," Severus said as he peered out into the brightened hall. "Perhaps, if I'm fortunate, I'll run into whoever it was on my way to my quarters." He sneered with no humor at the thought before schooling his features. He stepped through the double doors and nodded his head towards the matron. "Goodnight, Madam Pomfrey."

"Goodnight, Severus," the matron said. He was nearly at the stairs when the doors to the Hospital Wing closed behind him, the sound almost thunderous in the dead of the night.

He walked through the corridors, wand high, in a deliberately aimless matter. He cast a _Lumos_ to silently light his way. The soles of his shoes were no more audible than a shadow against the stone. As his fear folded itself into anger, he _listened_ as much as his sense of hearing allowed.

There was a chance that he was wrong, but as he began to hear a peculiar scraping of fabric and the soft sound of rubber sole against stone, he knew his first assumption was the correct one. His lips twisted upwards in triumph.

He continued walking down the corridors, seemingly in no hurry to return to his own quarters. His invisible shadow followed behind, close enough to be heard, but not nearly enough to grab. He would have him soon enough.

As he crossed the tapestry depicting Gladys the Incontinent on the first floor, he came to a slow stop, as if uncertain of a peculiar shadow up ahead. There was a slight sound from his shadow, perhaps from moving slightly back in caution. Still facing forward, Severus made his move, flicking his wand in the appropriate gesture to silently summon one particular Invisibility Cloak to his outstretched hand.

There was a gasp and a bit of struggle, but no sooner did he cast the spell did he turn, catching the Summoned Cloak in his hand. And there, revealed like the rabbit in a cheap Muggle trick, was Harry Potter. Even in the dim light of his _Lumos_, Severus would have known the shameless fool anywhere.

He draped the Cloak over his arm, covering the charmed basket with it. A dark, nasty mood thrummed through his thoughts with each silenced step towards the boy, and it did not care that there was one secret Severus must keep.

_The boy must never know._


	13. A Second Interlude

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_A Second Interlude_

Snape was striding towards him, his black robes nearly invisible in the darkness and Harry's own Invisibility Cloak draped casually over his arm. His footfalls were silent and his face, ghost-white from illness and injury, was a ghoulish apparition in the wandlight. Harry was alone in a darkened corridor with the fully trained, vindictive wizard, and a lesser person, or perhaps a saner one, would have been frightened out of his wits as the man drew closer.

If he were honest with himself, Harry would have admitted he, too, was scared. It was foolish of him to deliberately follow Snape, and, judging from the look on Snape's face, he might not make it out of this with all his limbs intact. He knew something was wrong with the man, however, and the brief glimpse he got in the Hospital Wing just before retreating from Madam Pomfrey was not enough to assuage him. He wasn't even sure if what had happened to Snape had anything to do with himself or Voldemort, but Harry was not going to rest until he got to the bottom of this mystery. He certainly didn't trust the man enough to leave this inconsistency in Snape's behavior go without investigation.

What fear Harry felt had already been channeled into something more manageable and not nearly as useless against Snape. His teeth were not quite grinding and his breathing quickened as Snape stopped less than an arm's length away. The light of Snape's _Lumos_ was harsh to Harry's eyes.

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor for breaking curfew," Snape said, his voice cool and measured. His black eyes were sharp. "Now, explain yourself, and pray I don't take more."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said defiantly, staring dead into Snape's eyes. This was a bad move against a Legilimens. That fact, however, only made it that much harder to back down.

"Why were you following me?" Snape snapped, the spittle barely staying behind his crooked teeth.

"What does it matter to you?" Harry said without thinking, his own words harsh and his ire growing.

"What does-," Snape sputtered, growing more vexed as well. "Do you think it's _not_ my concern when a student is out and about in the middle of the night, intent on wreaking havoc?" he said, his voice rising in both volume and rancor.

"I'm not 'wreaking havoc'!" Harry said, his own voice nearly a roar.

"Then why were you following me?" Snape repeated with a shout.

"I was worried," Harry yelled, the meaning of the words changing from what Harry intended as they dashed out of his mouth.

Snape's eyes narrowed and he stared at Harry for a long moment before his whole face lengthened into a snide, patronizing look. "You were worried," Snape said, his voice a murmured echo of what it was moments before. "_You_ left your bed in the middle of the night to stalk me because you were _worried_." His eyelids half-closed as his mouth twisted unfavorably. His free hand came up to his breast, the Invisibility Cloak making part of his side disappear. "I'm touched by your concern."

"It isn't like that," Harry said, his feet itching to take a step back even as part of him wanted to provoke Snape further.

"Well, we don't seem to be understanding each other tonight," Snape said silkily. He was much closer now than he was earlier, and that itch was turning downright torturous. Snape's eyelashes lowered further, giving his jagged words a falsely solicitous sting. "So, please, explain. What exactly is 'it' like?" he said, each measured word punctuated with contempt.

Harry breathed in the acrid, dusty scent of Snape's robes, and it dizzied him. His body, already full of adrenaline, was beginning to react in the worst possible way to just how close Snape was to him. His face flushed as he inexplicably got hard from the scent and the proximity alone. Frightened of the possibility of Snape feeling his growing erection, Harry took that step back. "You were hurt," he said, his voice harsh in its desperation. Even he could hear the need for distance, control, and perhaps some insight as to _why_ he was getting hard for Snape leaking into his voice. There was no reason for Snape to not have heard it as well.

"And you wanted to see for yourself?" Snape said immediately, taking a step forward, completely negating Harry's efforts. "Perhaps even add a bit of pain of your own?" Snape sneered as he took a hold of Harry's upper arm and pulled him closer still. "As if you haven't done enough," he said, his voice a hiss in the dark.

Harry angrily, fearfully tried to yank his arm out of Snape's grip, but Snape only pulled him forward in response, pressing them together from chest to knee. A thought whimpered through his mind in panic as the rest of his body shivered and groaned at the feel of a hard body, _Snape's_ hard, bony body, against his.

"Don't think for a moment," Snape said with a growl that slowed to a quiet, stunned stop as he felt just how Harry's body was aroused by Snape's presence. Harry's eyes were wide with fear and his mind was raving, desperate for any thought that could will his erection away. The contact with Snape's leg, however, only made it bolder and more foolhardy.

Snape's face slackened, first with shock and then with fear. He recoiled from Harry, shoving him as far away as possible. His face, already pale, turned ashen as he stumbled on his feet briefly, moving away. His hand grabbed the edge of the tapestry on the wall for support.

He quickly steadied himself and pointed his wand at Harry, the angle of it almost defensive. His hand was motionless and the light did not waver, though there was still a stricken look on the man's face. He stared at Harry with fear in his eyes all the while he attempted to regain some of his composure.

Snape straightened completely, and, even as Harry's body continued to shake, he was once more physically the imposing and unapproachable Potions Master. His hoarse voice, however, betrayed him as he croaked weakly, "Potter… you…"

"Who's over there?" a female voice called out from some distance behind Harry. He turned, startled, even as Snape's wandlight went out without a word. Quickly, Harry pulled out his holly wand and cast _Lumos_, brightening the corridor anew.

Snape was gone. Harry peered down the corridor in disbelief before he remembered that the man still had his father's Invisibility Cloak.

"_Accio_ Invisibility Cloak," Harry hissed, pointing at the direction he was certain Snape was, but the trick Snape had pulled on him was not working. "_Accio_ Invisibility Cloak!" he hissed again, truly getting angry that Snape and the Cloak was not reappearing.

"Harry?" Tonks said from behind him, her wand drawn and her hair particularly mousy in the wandlight. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed?" She stared at him before glancing behind him into the darkness. "Who were you talking to?" she asked suspiciously.

Harry's mouth opened and closed like a fish as he glanced about as well. "Nobody," he sputtered out nervously. "I was just… talking to myself. You know, airing out my thoughts?"

Tonks stared at him, and it was immediately noticeable that she did not believe him. "Well," she said with a slight frown, peering down the corridor once more before relenting, "let's make sure you get back to Gryffindor Tower in one piece." She led him toward the stairwell, her hand resting lightly against his shoulder-bone for a moment before withdrawing.


	14. Chapter 12

_I had a long list_ of notes as to what happens next in this story. It was about as long as my list of excuses, actually. But I hated it. Shredded it. And started anew. So, I don't know where this story is going. Again. And hey, if you can figure out what plothole I filled in with this chapter, you get a Canon Fodder Detail Picker badge as a prize. Not redeemable for money, but still pretty neat. (Now off to work on my, uh, other stories... *ducks*)

_Warnings_: (because it has been a while) Snarry, set during _Half-Blood Prince_, plotholes, MPreg, aborted MPreg, sexual content, typos, OOC?, dub-con???, unbeta'ed, and completely unfinished. Usual fanfiction disclaimers apply. _This chapter_: a couple of bad allusions, bad Potions talk, and Dobby! I will admit I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but this story tends to do that to me. A lot.

And if you see a mistake, let me know? :)

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Twelve_

There were several potions that called for the various parts of a human corpse. A few of these concoctions were best if the recently deceased had been of the magical persuasion; others worked just as well with slices of Muggle flesh. Those that called for parts from a human fetus were never nearly as picky; a child's magical ability rarely manifested itself in the cradle, much less in the womb.

Potions calling for human parts, however, fetal or otherwise, were still severely frowned upon by the general Wizarding community, despite the availability of potential ingredients. This, however, had not stopped Severus from learning all he could about these forbidden potions, back when he was younger and much more ambitious. Even now in his old age, few things had been able to stop Severus from learning something new.

He knew, for example, that the bones, if air-dried for a fortnight before cleaned with sand and later coconut milk, and then grounded to the consistency of fine sand, could be added to a known hallucinogenic for a stronger effect. The liver, if shredded with a sharp copper blade, was useful in a purifying solvent. The brain itself, if properly cured, was irreplaceable in a variety of potions, from communicable plagues to a peculiar hair restorer once popular with young women of a certain persuasion.

Severus murmured a recipe or two under his breath as he examined the remains of the child he had unknowingly carried for nearly four months. He turned the abortion this way and that, examining each detail by the light of the lantern on his desk.

The tiny hands, translucent and frail in the light, were already stiff with death. Whole, they could be used in a leeching potion, so long as the tiny fists were stuffed with a mixture of salt and diced rose thorns. The fingers, on the other hand, could be boiled and sliced for a slow-acting poison that would have been very difficult to detect but unfortunately easy to neutralize.

Severus whispered his learning to this destroyed creation, this thing that could have been his child. Years of forbidden knowledge were running through his mind and falling from his lips like the blackest of pearls. He thought of and spoke of these hidden truths and theories, knowing that to do otherwise would be to remember. And Severus did not want to remember that this broken collection of bone and flesh in his hands was much more than just an unexpected addition to his personal stores.

He ran a finger down the center of the dead thing's face, a sliver of uncertainty filling his heart for a moment before he relentlessly pushed it aside. Why care about whose nose the child would have inherited, when the flesh that shaped it now was essential to West's Apple, a mildly acidic shark repellent? Why wonder if the child's eyes would have been green or black, when testing Perón's theory of 'the unseeing eyes of a lost child' (poetic Spaniards be damned) in shape-shifting potions would be an intriguing way to pass the time?

He frowned at the creature, annoyed with himself for letting his mind wander so dangerously. He laid the remains on the black velvet spread out on his desk with a huff and began casting a succession of spells and charms on the body and accompanying placenta.

The charms he cast on the remains were old hat; he could not recall how many times he had spelled newly acquired materials against decay and contamination before he could use them in his work. The black velvet he would wrap the remains in, too, was designed to keep the corpse fresh and untainted.

He had never thought he would use this knowledge on such a thing as what was now on his desk, safely wrapped away in velvet.

On one side of this desk by the lantern was a small silver case, open and waiting. He pulled it close and lowered the wrapped remains into it, careful to not bump the delicate bundle against the edges as he did so.

The case, no larger or wider than an inexpensive cigarette case, was undecorated but for the tiny row of pinprick-sized keyholes along its side. The seven keyholes, as noticeable as a lump of coal in a pool of ink, were spread out along the edge, with an echoing set on the opposite side. Only the first chamber was as small as the case suggested; inside it was a handful of Marlboros Severus smoked on occasion. He would be remiss if he did not admit he had smoked one to calm his nerves after his encounter with Potter.

The other six chambers, however, were vast canyons in comparison, filled with Severus' most precious and most secret possessions, canyons that were accessible only by blood. It would be in the seventh chamber of this unremarkable, slender case that Severus intended to hide away this secret failing.

He made certain the remains would stay secure against any shaking, his long fingers tucking the black velvet around the corpse one last time before pulling his hand away. Here, he was certain, it would be safe, and his shame, his anger, and his regret would stay secret with it.

He closed the thin metal case, making certain that each of the keyholes along the side of the case were locked. He slipped it into a pocket of his robes with only the most transitory feeling of satisfaction smoothing his brow.

His sense of satisfaction, however, faded away like smoke as his eyes fell on the Invisibility Cloak opposite him. He had draped over the straight-back chair opposite his desk when he, still trembling from his encounter with Potter, had entered his office. His lips flattened in irritation. He had been truly frightened that the boy had remembered, but he had faith that the Memory Charm would not break. It could not break. He did not want to consider what would happen if Potter remembered now.

He had acted like an outright fool in that corridor, letting his control slip in Potter's presence and risking the chance of jogging Potter's memory. He still burned with anger at what the boy had put him through; the fact that the boy did not remember because of the Memory Charm _Severus_ had cast was not enough to absolve him.

His cheeks burned as he remembered the heat of the boy against him, unexpected and shameful. His eyes were so wide with panic when Severus pulled him close. Was he so desperate to have a repeat encounter with the boy? Wasn't one horrendous mistake enough, or was the dark, miserable masochist in him hungry for another go? No part of him desired to be on his knees on cold stone again, being dominated by the boy. Calloused hands holding his hips in a bruising grip, a hot mouth groaning and panting against his spine…

He adjusted his trousers, holding back a moan as the fabric rubbed against him in a not-unpleasant manner. Counter-productive or not, it would be so easy to slip his hand underneath the waistband, but Severus knew it would be a hollow release, and a shameful one, coming with thoughts of Potter guiding his hand.

First thing in the morning that Cloak was going to the Headmaster. Let _him_ deal with the boy and the return of the accursed artifact. Severus could no longer risk being alone with the boy, not if his anger, his resentment, and the memories of that night were to color every encounter with him. The Headmaster would not be overjoyed when he learned he had taken the boy's precious Cloak away for even a night, but better to withstand the Headmaster's disappointment again that to risk feeling Potter's arousal against his thigh a third time. Severus was more likely to survive the Headmaster's displeasure.

He Summoned the Disillusioned silver thread he had sown into Potter's Cloak so many years ago, causing the entire garment to jerk uncertainly towards him with a lazy swish of his wand. The cool fabric flowed like liquid onto his lap as he held it, teasing his arousal in a way Severus ignored. His fingers, as sensitive as they were stained, searched for the thin, Disillusioned threads of silver woven in, casting a charm or three on them to keep them undetected for a little while longer and keeping his thoughts as far from Potter as possible.

* * *

_Dobby shook Harry awake, the house-elf's eyes glowing by the light of the candle on the low table. The common room was dark and cold; a handful of embers still glowed in the fireplace. _

_There was a fire burning when Harry had settled into the cushioned chair, diligently waiting for Dobby to return. He was so wired with sexual confusion and nerves, he had not expected to nod off. He must have been more tired that he had first thought. _

_"Is Harry Potter awake, sir?" Dobby said, his high-pitched voice like the faint hiss of air slowly escaping from a balloon. "Maybe Harry Potter is more comfortable in a bed?" _

_"I'm fine," Harry said, rubbing his eyes with his fingers before readjusting his glasses. Dobby looked up at him, regret clear on his face. It took a moment for Harry to notice what was missing. _

_His father's Invisibility Cloak was not in Dobby's hands. His stomach churned painfully. "The Cloak?" _

_Dobby's look of regret deepened. "Dobby couldn't take the Cloak from Professor Snape, Harry Potter sir," he said, his hands twisting the hem of his shrunken sweater. "It was in Professor Snape's hands for hours." _

_"He's still awake?" Harry asked incredulously, glancing at the common room's clock. It was nearly four-thirty in the morning. "What was he doing with it this whole time?" _

_"Professor Snape was casting spells on the Cloak," Dobby said. "Dobby does not know what kind or why." _

_Harry could only guess at what sort of hideous, dangerous charms Snape had put on his Cloak now that he had the chance. He didn't know what he would do if Snape damaged the Cloak in any way. "I can't believe this," he whispered to himself, deflating a bit and sinking into the chair. If his stomach did not stop churning, he was going to vomit. _

_"The Cloak is still fine, Harry Potter sir," Dobby reassured him as he wringed his hands. "The spells weren't affecting the Cloak at all. And Dobby thinks Professor Snape needed something to do. Professor Snape is still much too upset over what happened today to sleep." _

_"Probably still upset Ginny hexed him," Harry said, made a small noise of agreement. Snape was never one to take indignities in stride; it must have been quite an insult to be accidentally hexed in his own class. _

_The pale, haggard face of his professor after leaving the Hospital Wing formed again in Harry's mind. "How did he look?" he asked suddenly before backpedalling a bit. "Because he didn't look too well earlier." _

_Dobby gave Harry a weak, grateful smile, confusing Harry. "Oh, Professor Snape would be so happy to know Harry Potter cares so much for him," Dobby said, his large eyes suspiciously bright. _

_"Don't be so sure," Harry muttered under his breath, recalling how Snape had responded to Harry's vague concern with cold suspicion not a few hours ago. "He didn't appreciate it before." _

_"Professor Snape is not very good with concern, yes," Dobby said as if he knew first-hand about Snape's reaction to concern and kindness. "He is still ill, yes, but his body will heal. It is Professor Snape's heart that Dobby is afraid will stay broken for a long time." _

_"Snape's heart?" Harry echoed. "What does Snape's heart have to do with what happened?" He stared at the house-elf as an odd thought dawned on him. "You know what made Snape sick all these months, don't you Dobby?" _

_Dobby stood stock-still for a brief moment before he began to tremble all over. "Dobby does," he said, the tower of knitted hats on his head wobbling dangerously. "But Dobby cannot _tell_ Harry Potter. Dobby promised Professor Dumbledore he will keep this secret." _

_"This is Dumbledore's secret?" Harry said, confused and not a bit wary. _

_"This is Hogwarts' secret," Dobby insisted. "And Dobby is proud to keep it." _

_Harry was silent, going over the words in his mind. "… It must be something terrible, then," he said after a while. _

_"Yes, Harry Potter," Dobby said. "Terrible for Professor Snape. And very sad, too." _

_Harry ran a hand through his hair. If it was terrible and sad, he reasoned, it might involve Voldemort after all. Dumbledore kept so many things secret; Harry would not be surprised if Snape's illness had been caused by Riddle in some way. But Dobby said it was _Hogwarts'_ secret, so Harry could be wrong. _

_Harry would not be able to leave this alone, however. Snape might not tell him directly what that terrible, sad secret was, but that had not stopped Harry before. What if it _did_ involve Voldemort in some way? What if it involved _Harry_? _

_"Does Harry Potter want Dobby to try again?" Dobby said, interrupting Harry's thoughts, startling him. _

_"What? No," Harry said, shaking his head. "It's alright. I'll go get it first thing in the morning." The thought of having to face Snape again so soon after what happened in that corridor made his insides turn to ice. He remembered acutely how the smell of Snape's robes and the feel of Snape's body against his had affected him.__ He also remembered the horrified look on the man's face when he had felt just how he had affected Harry. Snape was probably just as eager to keep his distance, if that look of fear had been genuine, and in any other situation, that would have been a welcomed reprieve. _

_That would not get Harry his Cloak back, however, and he _had_ been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason. __He __could not let his embarrassment stop him from getting back what was rightfully his. And it would give him a__ chance to perhaps get a clue as to what sort of secret Snape, and by extension Dumbledore and Hogwarts, was hiding._

_"Thank you, Dobby," he said, grateful for the house-elf's unexpected help even if he had been unable to do what Harry had initially asked him to do. The house-elf beamed at Harry before disappearing, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.  
_


	15. Chapter 13

_No clever notes_ today, sorry. Just, uh, sorry for the long wait (if you were anxiously waiting for this part), thanks for reading (which I'm hoping that's what you're doing here), and I hope you enjoy the opening sex scene (which is probably much too short for some, but what can you do?)

_Warning_: Sex scene ahead. Also, typos and crap.

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Thirteen_

_

* * *

_

_Potter was so young, so eager, his erection hard and hot against Severus' thigh. This should not be happening. Severus held on tight to the boy.  
_

_"Potter," Severus managed to say before Potter crammed his tongue into Severus' mouth. Their noses smashed against each other. Potter's glasses scraped against Severus' face. _

_"Shut up," Potter said, pulling away just enough to gasp that out. The boy's hands were fumbling with Severus' robes, searching for a fast way in. "I hate you so much." He pressed his mouth against Severus'. His hands found the waist of Severus' trousers and popped a few buttons with fervor. _

_"The feeling's more than mutual," Severus growled, his hands already inside the boy's clothing, twisting Potter's nipples between his fingers hard enough to hurt him. _

_"But I hate just you," Potter said, whimpering as Severus bit into the side of his neck. Potter pushed Severus hard against the wall, his grip on Severus' cock tightened in retaliation. "You hate me because of my father." _

_"Even without hating your father," Severus said as he pressed against Potter's hand, grinding shamelessly against him, "I would still hate you." _

_He kissed Potter, letting the boy shove his tongue back inside. He pulled the boy down towards the cold stone floor._

* * *

Severus awoke with a groan to the sound of someone knocking on his office door. He didn't remember falling asleep at his desk; his last thoughts were on adjusting a few lesson plans to make up for the day's worth of lost class time. There were now a few stray lines and drops of ink blotting out parts of his Thursday lesson with the Ravenclaw first years. He rubbed his face in exhaustion.

Whoever it was at his door had quite the nerve. It could not have been any more than six o'clock in the morning. What little light there was in the room was coming from the charmed window to his left, which showed only a dull, overcast sky. It was dark, and not a little cold, but the person on the other side was still being aggravatingly insistent, knocking hard enough on Severus' door to wake the death if need be.

Severus stretched as he rose from the chair, grimacing as his cramped muscles protested. He was still in yesterday's robes, and his face felt grimy and rough underneath his hands. He hoped a few sharp words would send whomever it was at his door back to whatever dark hole they had come from.

He opened the door and found Potter on the other side, one fist up to pound away at Severus' door. The boy was already in his school robes, the pleats the house elves iron in still crisp and neat. It was easy to see, however, that Potter had not slept well last night, either. The hair was, surprisingly, more ragged and unkempt than usual, and that glower on his face was equal parts surliness and exhaustion.

Severus was not surprised to see him there. Of course it was Potter banging on his office door at such an indecent hour, ready to herald in another day full of suffering. Severus crossed his arms and straightened to his full height, as much to intimidate the cretin as to establish and keep a distance between them.

He would not let Potter drive him to act as he did last night. He could not, and would not, make the same foolish mistakes again.

"This better be an emergency, Potter," Severus said, his voice rough from sleep as he glared balefully at the boy.

The boy startled for a moment, but he quickly regained his bearings. "I need my father's Cloak back," he said, his tone quiet but bossy to Severus' ears.

Severus stared at the boy for a long moment, wanting to make the boy squirm. He was pleased when Potter began to tense up under the scrutiny. A corner of Severus' mouth turned up and formed a malicious smile. "And what makes you think I'll give such an extremely useful artifact to someone as loathsome as yourself," he said, his voice unnaturally loud in the quiet, empty hall. "You certainly can't seem to find any proper use for it, however much you think stalking your professors should be considered 'proper use'."

"Dumbledore-"

"Professor Dumbledore, Potter," Severus interjected.

"He said I need to keep it with me at all times," Potter continued, his voice almost a whisper as he ignored Severus' interruption. "Just in case," he added, staring right at Severus' face. It was almost laughable, the boy's attempt at subtlety and secrecy. His eyes were large and bright behind the thick frames.

"Yes, just in case you get the irrepressible urge to wreak havoc," Severus said with contempt, averting his eyes to the bridge of the boy's nose. Better to not look into those eyes than to condemn himself to more misery. "No, you will get your Cloak back _after_ I have spoken to the Headmaster about your behavior last night."

The boy's ears and cheeks immediately turned red, even as the rest of his face blanched. He should be ashamed and afraid, for all that he had done. "Perhaps this will cure you of your need to snoop into others' affairs," Severus said. "As well as anything else that seems to be wrong with you."

"There's nothing wrong with finding out if you were alright," the boy said hotly, clearly offended or, more likely, upset at being exposed for the conniving fool he was.

"I don't believe for one moment that was your sole motivation, Potter," Severus said. "I know you too well."

"I doubt that," was Potter's reply.

Severus did not bother replying to the petulant words.

In the pause, Severus heard the sound of someone's footsteps echoing through the halls. It was a slow, steady sound, one familiar to Severus after all these years. He knew without looking that it was the Headmaster, idly strolling through the dungeons towards them and smiling as if he hadn't a care in the world.

His cheerful demeanor at such an early hour was as inexcusable as the bottle-green robes he was wearing that morning. Severus clenched his teeth, focusing instead on the gold braid on the Headmaster's coned cap.

"Good morning, Professor Snape, Harry," the Headmaster said as he drew near, giving each of them a slight nod of his head.

"Professor Dumbledore," Potter said meekly, a guilty, unsure look on his face.

"Headmaster," Severus returned, his face sober even as he tried to puzzle out exactly what had brought the Headmaster down into the dungeons at that hour, if not to personally learn why Potter was at Severus' door.

"It's so rare to see the two of you awake at this hour," the Headmaster said, his eyes on Potter, but Severus knew the old man was paying attention to Severus as well. "What brings you down here at 5:30 in the morning, Harry?"

"Snape has my Invisibility Cloak," Potter blurted out like a child denied his favorite ball.

"Professor Snape, Harry," the Headmaster reprimanded gently. He glanced at Severus.

"I confiscated it," Severus said, his crossed arms stiffening against the reprobation in the Headmaster's eyes. "He used it last night to harass a member of the staff."

"And by 'a member of the staff', you mean yourself, Professor Snape?" the Headmaster said, amused.

The Headmaster's words rankled Severus. "Would you feel differently if it was Professor McGonagall or yourself, being followed by the boy? Who knows what sorts of mischief he has gotten in with that artifact that we do not know about?" The boy's behavior must not be condoned any longer. Severus would not allow it.

The Headmaster smiled ruefully. "I'm certain that Harry meant no harm," he said. "But you are absolutely right, Professor Snape; this sort of behavior should not go unpunished." He stroked his beard and nodded his head sagely. "However, I do not think I have to outline for either of you why Harry should have his father's Cloak returned to him."

Severus stared down the empty hall just past the Headmaster's shoulder. "Whatever you think is best, Headmaster," he muttered.

"Well," the Headmaster said, "I think that, in exchange for the Cloak, Harry should instead receive two days' detention with you. I think that's more than a fair trade."

Severus' bones turned cold at the Headmaster's words. "Headmaster," he said in a measured tone, "while I hardly believe two days' detention is more than adequate, I do not think that I will have time to supervise a detention over the next few days, considering all the work I must to do get my classes back on track." Not to mention all the anxiety he felt at the thought of being forced to spend more time alone with Potter. He did not think he could handle it, but to outright refuse would just make the old man more suspicious.

"Oh, I'm certain Harry could make himself useful to you in that regard, if you let him. Defense Against the Dark Arts is his strongest subject, as I am sure you know," the Headmaster said, his expression sharp and not the least bit convinced by Severus' objection. Severus quickly made sure his Occlumency shields were up, afraid the Headmaster would sense the wrong thing and come to the right conclusions. "And I can't think of a better person to supervise these detentions than the person wronged."

Sometimes, Severus wondered if the old man truly hated him. "Very well," he said, turning towards Potter. "Report to me tomorrow evening, now go get your Cloak. It's on the chair." He moved aside to let the boy pass, his motions stiff and awkward as he avoided touching the boy altogether.

"Severus," the Headmaster said in a low voice once the boy was out of earshot. Severus looked at him, wary. "Did you read the materials I sent down last night?"

"No, I did not," he said. He was too busy trying not to remember. He looked over to where Potter was, searching for his Cloak by Severus' desk. "The chair, Potter," he directed.

"And you intend to teach today?" the Headmaster said.

"I'm not ill," Severus said defensively. "Just tired." It had been a very long time since he had let such a thing as _fatigue_ stop him from doing his duty. "Not my chair, you dolt. The other chair."

"Have you at least considered talking to the boy?" the Headmaster said.

Severus jerked and glared at the old man. "That matter is closed," he hissed, "and I would prefer that you weren't so frank about it."

"I'm only looking out for your best interests," the Headmaster said so sincerely and gently that bile rose in Severus' throat. "Ah, Harry, found your Cloak?" The boy stood no more than five steps away, a confused look on his face as he nodded. He must have heard some of what they had said just now; the boy was too curious to not eavesdrop on Severus' conversations.

"Good, good," the Headmaster said as he extended his hand and guided the boy out of Severus' office. "Perhaps you should come and walk with me a ways and give Professor Snape a chance to get ready for the day." The old man winked Severus' direction. Severus returned the look with a blank stare.

The old man and the boy walked up the hallway side by side. After a few feet, Potter looked back, that curious, confused look in his eyes. He had heard, of that Severus was certain, and it frightened him to think that was the Headmaster's intention all along.

Severus lifted his chin and sniffed at the look in Potter's eyes before turning away, slamming his office door behind him. He had a day's worth of classes to prepare for.


	16. Chapter 14

_It's a bit odd,_ but I didn't want you to think that I've forgotten about you. So here's a Christmas gift. It's probably not very good (certainly not good enough to justify the months-long delay), but I hope you like it. (And now I'm off in search of tropical alcoholic drinks...)

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Fourteen_

A few students were in the halls as Severus made his way back to his classroom after dinner. They would duck out of the way as he approached, wary of attracting his attention. Severus' thoughts, however, were not on the jumpy students or the possibility of ill-conceived pranks so late in the day, at least, not at the moment. There was something stuck in a crevice near the back of his mouth, just out of his tongue's reach, and he was having the worst trouble dislodging it.

What _had_ he eaten tonight? He should not be having so much trouble remembering. He vaguely recalled seeing green peas on his plate, or were those Potter's eyes, watching him from over the rim of his goblet of pumpkin juice?

The boy has had his eyes on Severus all day, which had the dual effect of both irritating and worrying him. Perhaps he was being especially paranoid, nervous that the boy had developed some completely counter-productive notion about Severus' 'illness'. Potter had glanced up at him in between mouthfuls of egg and toast during breakfast. He had taken detours and passed by Severus on his way to classes, unabashedly staring as Severus walked past. Potter had looked towards the Head Table more than a few times as he ate his lamb pie at lunch.

He had peeked at Severus from behind his quill, paying more attention to Severus than to any of the test questions set before him. He was not one for studying, Potter, but even he should have realized Severus was in no mood for inanities. He had thought a mock NEWT would be enough to distract the boy, but apparently he had underestimated just how as thickheaded and bullish Harry Potter was.

"Eyes. Down!" Severus had said, enunciating with enough force that the majority of the class hunched their shoulders over their parchment in fear. Potter had ducked his head then as well, but by the end of the class, he returned to his previous preoccupation, darting his gaze away whenever Severus glanced in his direction.

He was not looking forward to tonight's detention, not if Potter's actions today were merely foreshadowing the suffering Severus would go through in his presence tonight. He cursed the Headmaster's name for 'suggesting' the punishment, and his own for allowing himself to cower at the _thought_ of spending time alone with the boy.

Something niggled in the back of his mind, however. Aside from Potter's increased and completely unwanted attentions, the day had been wholly unremarkable. He had spent the entire day waiting for an errant hex or worse, yet no one had dared. Part of him knew that it as only a matter of time before something _did _happen, and he was certain he was not going to enjoy it one bit.

It was at that moment, just outside his classroom door, when the Mark on his arm flared to life. He stumbled in shock, catching himself with one steadying hand against the wall and nearly swearing in frustration.

"Professor Snape," Potter said as from behind him. Severus glared over his shoulder and straightened his stance. Potter was already there at his elbow, his eyes sharp and his arms out as if to catch Severus in case he fell.

Severus sneered as he turned towards the boy, crossing his arms as he stared down at him. He had been following Severus all the way down to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, hadn't he? He was not carrying his books, but he was still in his school robes, and there were still breadcrumbs on the corner of his mouth. The detention was not for another ten minutes or so, yet there he was, three steps behind Severus to, no doubt, continue his unsolicited observations.

"Potter," Severus said, doing his best to ignore the pain in his arm. He tightly wrapped his robes around his body as he glowered down at the boy. "You're going to have to serve your detention tomorrow. I have other, more pressing matters to attend to tonight."

"Is it-?" Potter began to say, blatantly glancing at Severus' left arm before catching himself. He licked his lips. The breadcrumbs were left untouched. "Is it at 8 o'clock tomorrow?" he tried again. "The detention."

Severus exhaled through his nose. "Yes," he conceded, "and I can only hope that you are as capable of being on time tomorrow as you are at pestering," he said churlishly as he turned away. The pain from the summons was getting harder to ignore and he knew the Dark Lord was an impatient master. If he hurried, he could be out of the anti-Apparation wards within the half-hour.

"And the day after that?" Potter said, catching up to Severus and shamelessly walking beside him. "Professor Dumbledore said two nights, remember?"

"Are you so eager to serve detention with me, Potter?" Severus said, glaring at anyone that dared to whisper at the sight of the two of them, striding side by side towards the dungeons.

"I just want to make sure I don't get into any more trouble," Potter said, matching him stride for stride.

Severus was not sure how to reply, so he didn't and merely quickened his pace, hoping _that_ would get the boy to stop following him. He knew there was something Potter wanted to say; whether it was related to curiosity or concern, Severus did not know, nor did he care. He just didn't have the time to deal with the boy's words and mannerisms right now.

He stopped at his office door, unwilling to lead the boy directly to his quarters, and turned to face him. Potter stared back at him, his mouth a thin line holding back some base, useless drivel. His eyes were dark with questions.

It took a moment for Severus to realize the boy was actually reluctant to leave him in peace. "Goodnight, Mr. Potter," he said, his tone final.

The boy startled slightly, his eyes widening. He moved back a step. "Uh! Um, right," the boy stammered eloquently, lowering his eyes. He stood there for a breath, one foot forward and one foot back, waiting for a reason to stay and harass Severus some more.

Severus refused to give it to him.

"Goodnight," the boy said, looking up once more at Severus' face before finally taking his leave. Severus watched as the boy began to walk back out of the dungeons, glancing behind his shoulder a couple of times in his retreat. He watched as the boy disappeared around a corner. Only when he was certain the boy wasn't going to backtrack and reappear did Severus enter his office, quickly shutting the door behind him.

The Mark was burning as he walked around his desk and went to the narrow side door near the back. He pushed aside the drying herbs and flowers that hung over the dark wood, hiding it from the casual eye, tucking the boughs onto the hook embedded into the frame. He whispered a quick word to the carnation carved into the wood where the spyhole would have been placed and hurried inside, taking care to close the door behind him.

He cast _Lumos_ and rushed through the crowded sitting room to his bedroom. The hooded cloak and mask were just where he had left them after the last time the Dark Lord had felt it imperative to summon him, stuffed in an old sack he usually used when he went out foraging in the Forbidden Forest.

He slung the sack over a shoulder and, after a quick glance at himself in the mirror, left his rooms.

He made his way out of the castle and away from the effect of the Anti-Apparation wards as discreetly and nonchalantly as possible. What few students still wandering through the dungeons were wise enough to step out of Severus' path as he took a roundabout way out of the castle. He took a narrow hallway down to where the boats were stored during the school year and followed the deck out to the grounds. From there, it was only a short, shaded walk into the Forest and to the edge of the wards.

Once there, he leaned against a tree trunk to catch his breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand stroking the skin around the burning Mark. It wasn't just a coincidence that he was being summoned so soon after his brief time in hospital, he thought as he sent his Patronus to the Headmaster with a message. The silver doe wasted no time in dashing up into the air and towards the Headmaster's tower. He took a slow, calming breath as he watched her leap away.

He pulled out the robe and mask from the sack and put them on in the darkness. He tucked the sack into a pocket of his robes, and, after taking one last fortifying breath, placed his wand against his Mark and Disapparated towards the Dark Lord.

Others were already in the audience room when Severus arrived. They lined the sides of the room, their black cloaks barely whispering against the parquet floor as they shifted their weight from foot to foot, waiting. Anticipating. Their masks shone golden in the light, blank and impersonal.

The Dark Lord was watching from his seat at the far end of the room, this Severus knew without lifting his eyes. Severus did his best to ignore the shiver of fear down his spine as he moved to bow before the Dark Lord.

"My Lord," he said in greeting, his voice oddly hollow as he took care to keep his own anxiety hidden and his mind sufficiently closed.

His counterparts shifted like restless birds, which made the back of Severus' neck dampen with sweat. A few behind him were huffing in laughter. It was a veritable party tonight, and Severus had just been marked as the entertainment.

Severus did not think he would be enjoying this any more than he would have enjoyed Potter's company for two hours. However, something told him _this_ would be a bit more painful to endure.

"Severus", the Dark Lord said, hissing his name in greeting. "I didn't think you'd be joining us tonight."

"I apologize for my delay, my Lord," Severus said, keeping back his excuses. It would have been folly to give them. He was already before the Dark Lord, surrounded by his peers, in an exposed and vulnerable position. Pointing out the restrictions placed upon him by his role as spy, a role of which the Dark Lord approved, would only imply his tardiness was the Dark Lord's fault.

That would not win him any favors, and at the moment, Severus was in desperate need of a few.

A high-pitched voice screeched, "_Crucio_!" cursing Severus with unstoppable agony for a handful of milliseconds. He screamed, as much from the pain as from the shock. He fell to his knees as the curse was lifted away.

"Not yet, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord said, his words uttered with false reprimands. "Severus should at least know _why_ he is here."

Bellatrix snorted discreetly at the notion, but held her tongue.

Severus stared at the parquet floor and slowly rose back to his feet.

"I summoned you tonight because I recently had a revelation," the Dark Lord said. Severus stared at the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, aching too much to move at the moment. "I realized that perhaps we, and by 'we', I mean 'you'," he clarified, directing his words above Severus' bowed head to all those assembled before him, "have been growing too complacent."

A few shifted guiltily at the words.

"So complacent, in fact," the Dark Lord continued, "that we've allowed ourselves to be thwarted by mere children." That brought about a rising chorus of shifting and shuffling of feet. The part of Severus that can still be disconnected and flippant in the face of pending torture laughed at their discomfort. "So, I am once again forced to set an example of _one_ of you to teach _all_ of you."

Bellatrix took that as her cue and cast Cruciatus on Severus once more. She lifted it after a few seconds, but for Severus, once more brought down onto his hands and knees, it felt so much longer. He made a feeble attempt to stand, even as his muscles shook with each breath.

"I don't like learning that one of my strongest followers was sent to hospital because of a little girl's hex," the Dark Lord said.

Bellatrix smiled a too-wide smile and cast Cruciatus again. He writhed on the floor in agony, twisting and screaming beyond his control until the curse was lifted again.

He rolled onto his knees with a groan. He felt and moved like a battered, broken old man. He could taste blood in his mouth. He rested his brow in the smooth, cool floor as he tried to catch his breath and regain enough strength to stand.

"I hope this does not happen again, Severus," the Dark Lord said. The hem of his robes swayed just out of reach of Severus fingers.

"No, my Lord," Severus said, his voice shamefully hoarse.

The Dark Lord walked back to his seat at the far end of the room, leaving Severus' prostrating on the parquet floor.

Bellatrix moved to stand before him then, almost at the exact spot the Dark Lord had stood at just moments before. The hems of her robes were stitched with a dark blue thread that shimmered in the light. Severus was having trouble lifting his head higher.

She knelt down. Her face hovered over Severus' in an intimate fashion. "The Dark Lord may think it was complacency," she murmured to him. Her breath felt sour as it rolled against his cheek in a hot wave. "But I know the truth." She showed her teeth. It was a vicious expression. "You're just a weak, useless half-blood."

She stood up straight and kicked his arm. He lost his balance and dropped flat onto the floor. She cursed him again for a millisecond, but it was difficult to judge past the pain. "Maybe some time against a Pureblood's wand is just what you need to be stronger," she cackled as she cast Cructiatus on him once more.

Again and again, she shouted, "_Crucio_!" No more than five times, he believed, but he could not be sure. Each time was short, no more than a hair's breadth of time, and certainly not enough to drive a man mad, but it was enough.

"Are you strong enough yet?" she said gleefully as she lifted the curse one last time. Severus' body twitched as he lay, sprawled indelicately on the parquet floor. He thought he caught a slice of a smile on the Dark Lord's face, but he was barely conscious to be sure.


	17. A Fifth Interlude

_It's tough,_ when a chapter keeps changing on you. Or, rather, on me. For fun, I posted two of the five or six previous versions of this part in my scraps journal on LJ. (Just follow the tag, I guess :3) Barring any insanity, there are only four (five?) parts left, and when I finish this, I get a prize, so here's hoping I finish soon. XD *crosses fingers*

_Also of note_: You might not know what it is, but I like Snape's password. It's funny-sounding. TVTropes is also to blame. Feel free to guess for what. If this seems overworked, that's because it is. And you should check out my links. Because it's fun.

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_A Fifth Interlude_

It was getting late, and Harry was starting to shiver. He wrapped his father's Cloak tighter around himself, covering the back of his neck against the draft, but the thin material was not enough to keep him warm.

He probably would not have minded if the small supply room had been just cold. He could handle the cold rather well. The cramped quarters and thick layers of dust, too, were things to which he had been accustomed for years. He _had_ grown up in a cupboard, after all.

He hadn't had to share his cupboard under the stairs with an animated footstool, however, at least not one that had taken to jabbing him in the ribs with its hard, pointy corners. And he wasn't certain, but something considerably not rat-like kept sniffing at his shoe.

Despite these little inconveniences, however, Harry was undeterred. He was willing to go through much worse if it meant finally getting the upper hand. It was a small, cramped room, but it was also down in the dungeons, not far from either the main staircase or from Snape's office door. When Snape returned to the castle... if Snape returned to the castle... Harry would be ready and waiting for him.

... Although, if Harry didn't know better, he would think the git was staying away from Hogwarts just to _spite_ him at this point...

He huffed and kicked at whatever was sniffing at his foot. The feeble light he had conjured hours ago wobbled, amused by his misery. "You're horrible at your job," he muttered to the little light. It only flittered and flickered in response, never moving from its spot above the Map spread out in front of him.

Harry stared down at the Map, hoping that somehow, he had skipped over Snape's name the last thirty or so times he had searched for him. His office was still unoccupied, and, aside from Filch up by the Astronomy Tower and Professor Sprout near the Charms classroom, the halls were empty. There were a few people out on the grounds, but their names were not familiar to Harry and he could only assume that they were the Aurors assigned to watch the castle that night.

Snape's name was not among the clusters in any of the dormitories, or along the Lake's shore. Snape's name was still not on the Map. Snape had still not come back.

Did he intend to come back at all tonight, Harry thought as he rested his head on his hand and stifled a yawn with a fist. How long did he had to wait until he got his chance?

The footstool jabbed him, waking him up; he pushed it away with his elbow. He was going to fall asleep if he wasn't careful. He rubbed his tired eyes and scratched his nose as a new set of footprints appeared just on the edge of the Map.

"Snape," he said, straightening at the sight of the professor's name. The footstool, intrigued by his sudden movement, jabbed him in the ribs especially hard. He winced, holding the footstool back with a hand, and slowly pulled himself up to his feet.

Snape's footsteps looked a bit slow and uneasy as they emerged from a path that led out from the Forest. One of the Aurors on the grounds was walking quickly towards him, coming to stand nearly toe to toe with the professor.

Harry grabbed the Map as he dragged his numb feet underneath him. The little light hovered up to his ear, taking care to keep its light on the parchment. The Auror, someone named 'Alphege Hutton', was walking with Snape up to the oak doors, taking care to stay in step with the professor.

Harry bit his lip as feeling returned to his legs. He could feel something nudging his toe. It wouldn't be too long before Snape reached the dungeons, and Harry needed to be ready for when he came by.

"Mischief Managed," he whispered, his wand tip touching the Map, as he leaned against a broken desk. His legs tingled painfully as he folded the Map up, tucked it away in his pocket, and pointed his wand at the little light. "_Nox_," he said to the little light, which wobbled for a moment before blinking out, plunging the room into darkness. He covered himself completely with the Cloak and quietly, carefully, slipped out into the hallway.

He barely managed to close the door behind him when he spotted the glow of a lantern coming towards him. He pressed himself against the stone wall, careful not to make a sound, as Snape and Hutton turned the corner.

As the pair drew closer, Harry could tell right away that Snape looked horrible. His robes were splattered with mud, as was the sack slung over his shoulder. Bits of last year's foliage clung to his hair and clothes. His face, long and hollow-eyed, was a white mask, with a black slash for a mouth. His posture was impeccable, but his stride was slow and his hands were clenched at his sides.

Hutton, dressed in Auror red, walked shoulder to shoulder with Snape. He was a large man, about a head taller than Snape and easily twice the professor's weight. He held a lantern up and away with a rough, callused hand, and he had an underbite that made him look like a bulldog.

"You don't have to walk me all the way to my door, Auror Hutton," Snape said, his slow steps and weak voice belying his words. "I think I can manage on my own."

"I'm sure that you can, Professor," Hutton said in a higher-pitched voice than his body had led Harry to believe possible. His words had a bite that reminded Harry of Remus, particularly when he was disappointed in someone. "But it's my duty make sure you get home safely." As they drew closer, Harry could see the Auror's furrowed brow. "Though you should know better than to go out into the Forest at night alone."

"You never grasped the necessity of fresh ingredients, Hutton," Snape said, his usual smugness strengthening his voice.

"And you don't teach Potions any more, Snape," the Auror said, as if teasing Snape. Harry covered his mouth and tugged the Cloak tighter around himself as the pair walked past. He quietly fell in step behind them.

Snape gave the man a sideways glance as they neared Snape's office door. "Just don't expect me to invite you in," he said imperiously. Harry stared at the back of the Auror's head as a crazy idea entered his head, an idea that only grew worse when Hutton turned his head to look at Snape.

"Not even for a cup of tea?" he said in his pixie voice. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Snape glowered at the Auror. "I would hate to take you away from your other duties," he said as they stopped in front of Snape's office door. The professor looked at the Auror in the eye. "Thank you, Auror Hutton," he said. "I can see myself in."

"Are you sure?" Auror Hutton said as he took a step closer to the professor.

"Don't get so familiar, Auror," Snape said in an icy tone. The Auror merely shrugged as he stepped back and to the side. Snape unlocked his door and stepped inside, only to sway on his feet at the last step.

Harry took a step forward, stretching his arms out to catch the professor before realizing he was supposed to stay unseen. Hutton surged forward as well and caught Snape with his free arm. He held the professor up against his broad chest in something not unlike an embrace. The professor glared at Hutton as he helped Snape inside.

Harry bit his lip and rushed inside behind them.

Snape slid out of the Auror's grasp and took a heavy step towards one of the straight-back chairs facing his desk. He placed a white, steadying hand on the chair before turning to face the younger man. "Good night, Auror Hutton," he said.

Hutton stared at Snape as Harry carefully made his way along the wall, away from the door. He watched them, wondering just what was the Auror on. He couldn't _possibly _be interested in Snape, not in _that _way, right? Snape was a mess, and no amount of cleaning up would make that mess pleasing to the eye.

Harry's face burned as he remembered how pleasing Snape had been to his _body_, when it was pressed against him just night before. He shook his head, angry with himself. Now was not the time to think about hardness of Snape's thigh, or of the scent on the man's robes... or of Snape's reaction when he felt Harry against him.

Instead of leaving, the Auror took a step towards Snape. He moved slowly, as if cornering a wild, injured beast, and placed his hand on the chair as well. His hand did not touch the professor's, but it was closer than Harry thought was necessary.

Snape, for the most part, looked about one move away from gouging Hutton's eyes out with his bare hands. His stiff shoulders were held back defensively. "What do you think you are doing?" he said in a hiss.

Hutton did not reply and only met Snape's glare. His expression was almost unreadable, but it wasn't that hard for Harry to see that Hutton was planning something.

It must have been obvious to Snape as well. His hand was moving towards a pocket of his robes.

Hutton leaned forward and kissed Snape full on the mouth, smashing his cheek against Snape's nose. Harry stared, horrified, as Hutton's underbite scraped against Snape's upper lip. His callused hand rose up to Snape's shoulder, grasping it.

Snape jerked his wand hand out of his pocket and pressed the end of his wand on the underside of Hutton's jaw. The Auror pulled back in surprise, the hand on Snape pulling away but still hovering over Snape's shoulder.

"Perhaps you should get back to work?" Snape said, his wand hand steady despite the shakiness of his voice and the fact that it was pointed at an _Auror_ of all people.

The Auror wisely took a step back. "Maybe another night?" he said, never taking his eyes off Snape's face.

"That eager to be castrated?" Snape said, his expression serious. The tip of the wand was beginning to spark and tremble in his grip, but Hutton either did not notice, or didn't feel like bringing attention to it.

"You really should take it easy," Severus," Hutton said.

Snape's scowl darkened. He reached out and touched Hutton's chest with the tip of his wand. "You may not be my student anymore, Hutton, but that does not give you the right to address me in that manner."

"What will?" Hutton said, a half-smile on his face as he said it.

"Get out," Snape said, unmoved.

Hutton threw his hands up, surrendering, and took another step back. "I'm going," he said as he moved towards the door, never turning his back to Snape. He blindly fumbled with the doorknob. Snape merely glowered at him.

After a tense moment, Hutton managed to get the door open. "Goodnight," he said to Snape, sounding sincere. "Take care," he added as he left, closing the office door.

Harry stared at the door, confused and not a bit angry at the Auror, before noticing Snape was moving again. Whatever had been keeping Snape up until that moment was gone. His arms were shaking as he slipped his wand back into his pocket. His breathing was labored and his body slumped, exhausted.

Snape kept a hand on the furniture as he trudged towards the back of his office. Harry quietly moved around to the desk as well, anxious to get closer but unwilling to let Snape know that he was there. He moved slowly, anxiously keeping an eye on Snape as well as on where his feet were going.

Snape came to a stop in front of a cluster of dried herb bunches that were hanging against the stone wall behind his desk. As Snape pushed the bunches aside, the stone wall began to disappear and a door began to take shape. Dark wood replaced stone, first forming the frame and then turning its magic inward to reveal vertical lines and a strange carving of a flower up at eye level.

Snape murmured something to the carving, which made the carved flower flicker briefly. The door unlocked with a snap and swung silently out and away from Snape. He stumbled more than walked through the open door, stopping against a table on the other side to catch his breath. The sack slid off his shoulder and fell onto the floor with a soft thud, forgotten.

Harry stared at the open door, debating with himself for a moment if he should follow. He had already snuck into Snape's office, and he had learned things about Snape that could not be unlearned in a hundred years, but there was still much he needed to know.

What's more, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to enter Snape's quarters. Deep inside, Harry knew that sneaking into Snape's rooms would be as great as a violation of the professor's privacy as the incident with the Pensieve had been. However, if following Snape into his personal rooms meant he would find out the truth, than Harry could not, he should not, hesitate for a second.

As he watched Snape's arms tremble from overexertion, or perhaps one too many curses, Harry made his move. He ducked underneath the bunches of dried herbs and felt the skin on his face and hands tingle as he stepped inside what was obviously Snape's sitting room.

Snape's head jerked up, making Harry freeze. Snape stared through Harry at the open door, his eyes narrowing. Harry's heart stopped before he quickly moving out of the way, nearly stumbling on the sofa, as Snape moved to push the door closed.

Snape leaned against the closed door, resting his shoulder against the hard wood before turning and standing with his back against it. Harry watched as he slowly slid down the front of the door to sit on the bare floor. His legs splayed out in a very not-Snape-like manner.

Harry hovered beside the sofa and looked around as the professor closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The sitting room was cluttered much more than he would have thought possible for Snape. Books and strange artifacts were crammed into the shelves and left in piles on the floor. There were journals, open and abandoned, on the table by the sofa. The mantelpiece was bare but for a couple of trinkets, a clock, and a framed photograph, which was missing its occupant. The bedroom door was open, and Harry could see the shape of a four-post bed in the shadows. A cluster of parchment scrolls and manuscripts, tied together with a bright blue ribbon, were on the table by the door, along with a few scraps and a quill with a tattered plume.

The lights on the wall scones were bright, bringing all the dark stains on Snape's robes in sharp relief. Harry wondered if there was more on Snape's robes than just mud and debris.

Snape's hand shook as he brought it up to his collar. He slowly began to undo the fastenings of his robes. His fingers struggled with the topmost button but managed to slide out of its hole.

Harry's mouth dried and his face grew hot as Snape's fingers fiddled with the buttons. As each slipped out of its buttonhole, more and more of Snape's skin was revealed. First the white neck, his Adam's apple jutting out... the pronounced collar bones and thin, sparsely-haired chest... Snape eased the wool off his left shoulder and examined a bruise darkening on his upper arm. He prodded the skin, his mouth betraying little of the pain.

Harry stared at the bruise in shock as Snape's hand fell away. It was rather big, and for a moment Harry wondered if Snape _had_ actually spent the last few hours in the Forest gathering ingredients, and _not_ at Voldemort's beck and call. Riddle, however, was known to punish his followers, and Harry had seen it happen. It would certainly explain the trembling as a side-effect of the Cruciatus Curse.

If Snape had been punished tonight, however, then what was the reason for it? Voldemort was a madman, but he didn't torture his Death Eaters without due cause. Was Snape simply not acting fast enough in fulfilling their nefarious plans? Maybe it had to do with Malfoy's task... But, Dumbledore trusted Snape. How likely was it that Snape was tortured because he was deliberately dragging his feet? Maybe he was punished for a different reason whatsoever? Harry's thoughts ran in frustrated little circles, trying to fathom 'why'.

Snape's head fell forward and he began to laugh weakly. His hand pressed against his side, as if the airy chuckles pained him. His eyes squeezed shut and his head rolled to the side. His cheek rested against his right shoulder as the chuckles began to sound more and more like sobs.

"Maybe it's karma," he said, one hand sliding underneath the robes to press against his ribs and the other coming up to his brow. More bruises peeked out from underneath the wool. "Karma," he said again, finding the word amusing enough to laugh a bit louder before groaning in pain.

He moved glacially as he lay down on his side, his back still against the door. His arms folded up against his chest, crossing at the wrists. For a moment, Snape looked like a corpse, with his white, sickly complexion and bony frame. Snape laughed breathily again, and it was a mournful sound to Harry, more so than before, as Snape took care not to laugh too loudly lest he hurt himself further.

Harry stared down at his professor, unsure as to what he should do, when there was a knock on the door. Snape's eyes rolled to the side, but otherwise did not move.

"Severus," Dumbledore said from the other side of the door. "Are you in?"

"I'm a little busy, Headmaster," Snape said wearily to the floor.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Shall I come back at a more convenient time?"

Snape's eyes closed and his lips parted with a sigh. "Is there such a thing?" he said in a low voice to himself. "It _is_ rather late, Headmaster," he said a bit louder so that Dumbledore could hear him.

"Yes, it is, isn't it," Dumbledore said. "I was afraid you would be out all night."

"I am a bit more responsible than that, Headmaster," Snape said.

"Yes, you certainly are," Dumbledore said. Harry could imagine the headmaster nod his head as he said those words. "Perhaps we should talk in the morning? After breakfast, of course."

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape said even as his lip curled. "But I really should get ready for bed."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Until tomorrow, then." Snape tucked his chin against his chest, his eyes drifting closed. "Also, Severus," the headmaster continued, still on the other side of the door, "please read the materials I sent you as soon as you can. It seems that Poppy is desperate for a chance to read them as well."

Snape's nostrils flared. "As soon as I find then, Headmaster," he said in a sing-song voice.

"They're on the table next to the door, Severus," Dumbledore said, sounding a bit annoyed with Snape. "I doubt you could miss them."

Harry glanced over at the table, his eyes focusing on the bundle with the blue ribbon. He had to admit that the ribbon did make the bundle a bit more noticeable.

"Since you insist," Snape said, dragging himself into a sitting position, "I'll read them tonight."

"I'm certain you'll find them very informative," Professor Dumbledore said. Snape made a face at the words. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Snape said, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands before pulling himself back onto his feet. He was shaking a bit less as he came to stand in front of the table. He tugged the ribbon loose, grabbed one of the scrolls Professor Dumbledore left him, and unrolled it.

Snape read the scroll for a couple of minutes, his face unreadable at first. As he continued reading, however, the scowl on his face became more and more pronounced before he turned and, with a snarl, threw the scroll at Harry's head.

Harry ducked, barely avoiding being hit by the parchment, and kept his head low as Snape started throwing all of the scrolls and manuscripts towards Harry's hiding spot by the sofa. "Rubbish!" he yelled, chucking a small hardcover book. "Tripe!" He grabbed one of the pieces of rubbish on the table and threw that as well. He swayed and fell back against the table, agitated and out of breath.

Snape stared down at his knees as Harry cautiously peered at the professor from the other side of the sofa. He was silent, his expression oddly melancholy, before he straightened and strode to the bedroom. He slammed the door behind him, leaving Harry alone in his sitting room.

Harry stared at the closed door, feeling completely out of his depth and out of step. Snape was just in the other room, suffering from his treatment under Voldemort's care, and had inadvertently left Harry alone with the materials Professor Dumbledore had left Snape. Harry's eyes were drawn to the opened scroll.

He should leave now while Snape was in the other room, but he still needed to know what Snape, Dumbledore, and even Dobby were hiding. He crouched down and picked up the scroll, pulling the Cloak from off his face to read it better.

The contents were written with an incredibly neat hand. The print was so much better than even Hermione's handwriting, but it was difficult for him to understand just what was being said. There were runic equations and Carian algorithms Harry had trouble following, much less comprehending, written all over the place.

The written explanations were no better, with phrases such as 'passion matrix' and 'empowered tranfigurementations' sprinkled throughout. The writer used so many buzz words and esoteric catchphrases that Harry could understand why Snape had gotten so angry. The only things Harry could make out were the phrases 'the power of love' and 'Hogwarts' love cupboard'.

Harry glanced at the other scrolls, debating whether or not to untie them and look inside. Everything except for the small book was tied closed, and he was sure Snape would notice if the other scrolls and manuscripts had been read. Harry picked up the book and read the title:

_**The Magical Mister Seahorse  
**__A Complete History of Male Pregnancy in the Western Wizarding World_

It nearly slipped out of his fingers in shock.

The bedroom door swung open suddenly, startling Harry. He hid the book behind him out of instinct as he turned to face his professor.

For a moment, Harry was afraid that Snape could see him. The Cloak was barely covering his face and, crouched as he was by the tossed materials, it would be hard for him to escape out of Snape's reach without making a sound. Snape, however, seemed more interested in the lit wall scones and were glaring at them, visibly peeved.

He waved his wand at the lights, turning them off before going back into the bedroom and closing the door.

Harry let out the breath he was holding in and slowly stood up from his crouch, the book still in his hand. He quietly, carefully made his way in the dark towards the office door, nervously staring at the light underneath the bedroom door, hoping that Snape did not decide to come out until Harry had made his escape.


	18. Chapter 15

_I didn't intend_ to post this now. I intended to post this after I finished writing the rest of the story. But that didn't work out.

I also intended to post this part and the next as one whole chapter (they're both pretty short and work well together), but at the last minute, I suddenly had a great plot twist idea and I need a bit more time to work out the logistics. So...

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Fifteen_

There was an itch in the back of Severus's mind as he undressed for bed.

He felt like a mess, an utter catastrophe of flesh and bone. His hands trembled, his face was slack from exhaustion, and his bones felt too heavy to move.

He undressed slowly, letting the soiled clothing drop carelessly on the floor. Everything hurt. From his scalp to the corners of his eyes, the skin underneath his fingernails to the center of his arches. Every muscle felt knotted. Every joint was stiff. He would, at the very least, have to soak in something hot and medicinal if he intended to move properly in the morning. He lurched towards the bathroom, unable to shake the feeling he had overlooked something.

He was fumbling with the button of his trousers without much success when he heard a yelp from the sitting room.

Severus's head jerked towards the door even as he reached for his wand. That lingering itch in the back of his mind grew worse as a painful weight filled his stomach. He cast _Nox_ at the lights, plunging the bedroom into complete darkness.

He could almost hear the frantic shifting of cloth against skin coming from the other side of the bedroom door. Severus stepped over his robes and sneaked to the door as quickly and quietly as his feet allowed.

He took a deep breath to steady the trembling muscles up and down his arms. The rustling has stopped, but that did not mean the intruder had left. It meant the intruder was waiting for Severus to make the first move.

He wasn't about to disappoint.

Severus spelled the door to open silently. The sitting room was as pitch black as the bedroom. He could hear the intruder trying to control his nervous breathing.

_Incarcerous_, he cast, aiming his wand towards the door leading out of his quarters. The intruder yelped and yelled, "_Expelli_-"

Severus countered the Disarming Charm easily, wordlessly Stunning his opponent before the intruder had a chance to finish. There was a thud as the intruder's body fell back against the door and slid down to the floor.

Severus held his breath for a moment, waiting for a retaliatory attack. When it did not come, he rose from the crouch he did not realize he had fallen into. The scones on the wall flickered on with a wave of Severus's wand, revealing what looked like a severed arm dangling from his door and half a leg on the floor.

Severus found the hem of the Invisibility Cloak and pulled it away to unveil the Stunned body of Harry Potter. Lovely. Just the person to make this horrible night worse.

Severus groaned softly through his nose, feeling the headache just behind his eyes grow. Potter had collapsed against the door, his left hand hexed stuck to the doorknob. The left side of his face was covered with large purple spots. The rest of him was relatively unharmed and only partially wrapped in conjured ropes.

Severus frowned. The ropes looked frayed and broken at points. They wouldn't be fit to catch a flobberworm, much less a wizard of even Potter's low caliber. They should have been stronger. His magic should have been stronger.

Potter began to stir, causing Severus's unease to grow. Potter should not be waking up from his Stunning Spell so soon. He snatched Potter's wand off the floor and trained his own wand on the boy's face.

"You have picked a very bad night to break into my rooms," he said as Potter's eyes fluttered open.

"I can explain," Potter said groggily, his free hand held out in a placating manner. He struggled to get back on his feet.

"What makes you think that I am interested in your lies?" Severus stared down at the boy, daring him to look up at him. The boy met his glare with a surly look of his own. Potter was pure arrogance, and Severus found it so easy to hate him.

Potter's green eyes, offset by the purple spots, looked decisively poisonous. "_Legilimens_," Severus said, pushing his way into Potter's mind.

The first thing he saw was himself on the floor, his robes open and his injuries exposed… Potter was trying to push him out, desperate to keep him out of his mind. _…Auror Hutton taking advantage of Severus's fatigue…_ Severus felt his headache grow as he struggled against both the boy and the weakening spell. _…a scroll on the pregnancy…_ Severus grabbed the thread of that thought, finding a memory of Potter pocketing a small hardcover book as he tried to sneak out of Severus's rooms…

Severus's hold on the spell slipped, and Potter's pushing finally broke through, barreling into Severus's mind with all the care of a rampaging griffin. _…the silver case closing on a bundle wrapped in velvet… …the feel of Potter's mouth on his neck…_ Severus pushed back, just managing to kick the boy out of his mind.

Severus's body was cold and his head was pounding. Dizziness was threatening to overtake him, but he did not dare look away from the the boy. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on his wand.

Potter was breathing rapidly. He looked ready to hyperventilate.

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Severus whispered, trying to think past the throbbing pain in his head.

"We had sex," Potter whimpered, his eyes so wide, it looked positively painful.

"You had to find out what was wrong, even when it had _nothing to do with you_!"

"Nothing to do with me!" Potter yelled back. "You… you had sex with me! And now you have these scrolls and things about pregnancy! MALE pregnancy? And why can't I remember the sex?" As soon as the words left Potter's mouth, his face turned the color of spoiled milk, making the purple spots stand out even more.

"That's why you were sick lately, isn't it?" Potter said in a sicken, disbelieving voice. Severus stalked closer. The boy reacted by trying to escape. The frayed ropes still around his legs and the left hand still stuck to the doorknob gave him little room to maneuver. "Why you were in the Hospital Wing yesterday." He went slightly cross-eyed as Severus's wand rose to point at the spot between Potter's eyes.

"Are you going to Obliviate me again?" he whispered, his back pressed against the door.

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't," Severus said.

Potter didn't hesitate. "I deserved to know," he said.

"_Obliviate_," Severus cast, watching the boy's eyes go blank as his headache grew exponentially. His head felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside, and he fell to his knees. The wands in his hands slipped from his grip and he clutched at his head.

He hunched over, pressing his forehead against his knees. His body was shaking.

"Snape…" he heard Potter say in a soft, confused voice. Severus only let out a weak sob before collapsing completely. Potter's yells were ringing in his ears as the pain pounded him into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Next part next week (month) (... soonish)._


	19. Chapter 16

_I'm sorry that_ this little bit took so long to finish up and post. I really did think I'd have it ready within a month, but stress over another story blocked up all my creativity. This didn't break my longest between-post record (which I'm sure stands at a year and a half), but seven months is still a bit much for two pages' worth, especially two pages of this caliber.

* * *

_**A Series of Events**  
_

_Chapter Sixteen_

Severus awoke in a warm, unfamiliar bed, disoriented and disconnected from his body. A heavy, almost suffocating numbness had settled on top of him. It was disturbing, if not quite unpleasant.

Opening his eyes was a struggle. A candle burned nearby, the tiny flame flickering in a draft. The high ceiling of the Hospital Wing curved above him. The shadows twisted into sinister shapes that turned his stomach. He shut his eyes. "How long?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"Just over an hour," Dumbledore replied, his voice sounding oddly muted. Severus turned his head. The pillow was warm against his cheek, but he could not feel the texture of the cloth.

"Headmaster," Severus said. The old man looked bright and out of focus. Severus squinted at him. "Why?"

"Why am I here, you mean?" Dumbledore mused. "Well, I _was_ the one that did the rescuing. Although," he paused to stifle a yawn, "I should be going up to bed myself. Long day tomorrow. I'll be taking your classes while you recover."

Severus's eyes were watering from the effort of looking at the old man. He turned his head away. "Recover?"

"Your magic is completely drained, Severus," Dumbledore said in a low-pitched voice. "And your body's no better, not after tonight."

Severus had endured worse, but he was too tired to mention that. "And Potter?"

"Harry's fine," the Headmaster said. "A bit worse for wear, but the spots are gone. And Poppy assures me the skin on his hand will grow back."

Severus scowled up at the ceiling for a moment before his face muscles slackened, too exhausted to even sustain an expression. "He knew," he rasped. "The Dark Lord. About what happened in class."

"Did he know about-"

"No," Severus said quickly. "That's still… between us three."

Dumbledore hummed in disapproval. Severus glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"I still think you should tell the other party about-"

"Tell Potter everything," Severus said, cutting him off, "then I'll consider it."

Silence stretched between them. Severus closed his eyes. Sleep was tugging him under.

"You gave me your word that you would protect him, Severus," Dumbledore said, pulling him back to consciousness.

"Have I broken my promise?" he replied quietly, his eyes firmly shut. "Have I not done everything you've asked of me?"

"I've never asked you to alter his memory." The old man's disappointment filled every syllable. "Severus," he said, quietly demanding an answer.

"… He followed me inside," Severus said. "I would never have let him in. You know that."

"But, why-"

"He heard you," Severus said, his tone sharp for all his exhaustion and numbness. "He found out. About _that_."

Dumbledore was quiet for a long time. The candle guttered noisily. "This is a dangerous habit you're developing," he said in a grave voice. "Do you plan to alter my memories as well?"

"I can trust you with my secrets," Severus said. "Potter, I cannot."

"And he certainly can't trust _you_, either," Dumbledore commented under his breath. He sighed. "Hopefully, this lack of judgement on your part won't hurt us in the future."

Severus sneered. "My judgement is as sound as yours," he muttered defensively.

Dumbledore ignored the snipe and patted Severus's knee. "Just remember Memory Charms have been broken before." He took out his wand and gave it a little flick. Something popped open, bringing with it a noticeable hush.

Dumbledore pulled himself up to his feet. "Now rest," he said, the muted quality of his voice gone. "I'll come by tomorrow."

Severus mumbled a reply that was little more than a disgusted grunt.

Dumbledore picked up the candle and took it with him, only to stop at a bed across and to the right of Severus's. "Awake, are we?" he said to the person lying there, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

The person in the bed sat up. Even in the dim candlelight, it was unmistakably Potter. His hair was sticking out in all directions. His face was shiny with greasy potion residue. "Sorry, Professor," he murmured. "It's…" He shook his head. "Never mind."

"Would you like me to walk you back to Gryffindor Tower?" Dumbledore offered. "You might feel less anxious in your own bed."

Potter stared down at his lap. "What about Snape?" Potter said in a whisper that still reached Severus's ears.

"_Professor _Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected blithely, "and he has a bit more to recover from than you do at the moment." The old man paused. "Might I add how encouraging it is to see you show so much concern for Professor Snape-"

Potter's head shot up. "It's not concern," he denied immediately.

"Oh?" Dumbledore said. He tilted his head slightly towards the boy. "Then what would you call it?"

Potter did not reply. He stared back down at his clenched hands.

Dumbledore waited for a moment longer before shaking his sleeve over his injured hand. He gestured to the door with the candle. "Shall we?" he asked.

Potter did not look up. "Can… can I stay, instead?"

Dumbledore considered. "If you like," he conceded. "But only if you promise not to disturb Professor Snape."

"I promise," Potter answered in a rush.

Dumbledore smiled. He patted Potter's shoulder with his covered hand. "Goodnight."

Wonderful, Severus thought to himself as he glared at Potter. There was no chance of sleep now, not with Potter in the same room. Potter settled back into his bed, his greased face turned towards Severus.

Even in the dark, Severus could see Potter's eyes watching him.

Severus barely finished the thought before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

_Next time_: May, misguided chivalry, and that thing with Draco Malfoy.


End file.
